


Castiel and Crowley TNM Episode 4: Revelations: Part 2

by WatchingOne



Series: Castiel and Crowley: The Next Missions [4]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Canon, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-23
Updated: 2015-10-25
Packaged: 2018-04-16 19:46:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 10
Words: 23,529
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4637967
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WatchingOne/pseuds/WatchingOne
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Who is it working so hard against Castiel and Crowley to rule the world? Castiel and Crowley find themselves on the hunt. But with their ever growing list of Angels on their hit list...where to start? Might as well go to the source...</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Heaven's 11

# Heaven's 11

 

The Angels on guard looked at one another in puzzlement. They had definitely heard a noise in the golden hall leading to the Vaults door, but they could detect nothing. They both nodded silently to each other and drew their blades, moving slowly forward away from the door. The scanned left and right carefully with each step, regarding every shadow and corner with great scrutiny.

They reached the end of the hall, which was basically an armored gate and inspected the entrance, looking around the edges and lock for signs of a break-in. There was nothing. Finally, they nodded at each other once again, shrugged slightly and sheathed their blades, turning back to return to their posts.

A figure stood in the middle of the hallway. The Angels squinted as the figure glowed, blurring his features. They could see, however, that he was grinning widely.

“Hello boys....”, the figure said evenly, raising his hand. There was a flash of white energy and the two Angels vanished, the shout of alarm too late.

The figure dropped his hand and turned towards the Vault door, whistling softly to himself as he walked. He stopped in the hallway and pulled something out a backpack that he wore, using it to draw on the side of the wall. He examined his work and, satisfied, continued towards the Vault door. The door itself was a massive stone slab, with no discernible handle or opening mechanism. It was set seamlessly into the hallway. On its face were hundreds of carved Angelic glyphs, arranged neatly in rows.

He reached the door and slowly, tentatively, almost reverently stretched his hand out and traced his fingers over the Angel glyphs in a specific pattern. Each glyph began to glow blue as he finished with them, until seven of them were glowing. He smiled as the door began to slide aside.

The inside of the Vault itself was silent, but the energy radiating off of the objects of power inside made the air hum. Shelves, plinths, armor and weapon racks lined every corner of the interior, which was wall-to-wall white marble, thick golden veins running through every block. A diffused light source covered everything, coming from an unseen source.

The figure stopped and looked from side to side, scanning the room, also glancing back over his shoulder to ensure that no other Angels were coming. Satisfied, he nodded to himself and pulled out a small scroll.

He flipped it one way, then another, looking up at the Vault, orienting himself to the layout. He nodded once again and shoved the scroll back into his pocket, striding quickly towards a golden cabinet in the corner.

He reached his target, and with one more look over his shoulder, opened the stained glass doors carefully.

Inside was a golden book. A large clasp held it closed. The figure reached inside and picked it up with both hands, exhaling a bit at the weight of the large tome. When it was fully out, he whipped his backpack around from his shoulder and shoved it quickly inside. He zipped it closed and adjusted it, moving rapidly towards the Vaults door as he did so.

He frowned as he saw that the door was closing. He quickly turned his head back towards the cabinet and saw that a small sigil carved into it was flashing red. He let out a small curse and ran for the Vaults door.

He skidded to a stop just outside of it and looked up at the dozen Angels that had responded to the silent alarm. They were bearing down on him with blades drawn.

He straightened up and raised his hands in the air.

“Sorry, fellas, but....too late,” he said, grinning widely and slapping his palm against the symbol he had drawn on the wall before.

“No!!,” screamed the Angel at the front of the group as the symbol began to activate. Then his eyes went wide in shock as he began to transport away, recognition blazing in them.

“You.....?!”, the Angel uttered in disbelief as he and the rest of the guards flashed away.

The figure watched the spot where the Angels had stood and let out a sigh of relief.

“Yeah...me,” he said, smiling to himself almost sadly. He opened the gate leading out and whistled again to himself. “And; I'm sorry to say, that's the _last_ you'll be seeing of me, boys.”

 

***

 

“Perfect timing,” Crowley growled in a low whisper as he crouched behind a perfectly trimmed green hedge standing right before Heavens Gates. “We need to have perfect timing.”

Dean and Sam looked at him and shook their heads simultaneously.

“Yeah, no kidding, Crowley,” Dean whispered back angrily. “Unlike the other _hundred_ times you told us that.”

Crowley ignored him and stared intently at the Gates, sweat covering his forehead.

“You OK?”, Sam whispered after a few seconds.

Crowley turned his head on him. “No, of course I'm not bloody OK!” he hissed angrily, his voice just above a whisper. “A Demon has never, and I mean, _never in terms of the history of the universe_ , just _walked_ through that damnable Gate, so no, Moose, I am very, very far from OK!”

He sighed as Sam nodded and looked back at the Gate. “Just....remember....”, he began.

“Yeah, perfect timing, got it,” Sam finished, grasping his hex bag tightly in his fist and sprinting forward at the Gate in a crouch.

They each held a myriad assortment of the bags and their skin was covered in sigils and wards. Everything possible to keep them from being detected by the Angels.

Dean ran after them, Crowley following, craning his head around the entire way, as if expecting a horde of Angels to descend on them at any moment.

The reached the other side and ducked into a garden, one of the several that lined the main road that ran past the Gates.

Crowley, already breathing hard, sat down heavily and managed a wan smile. He looked around again and pulled out a small scroll, on which a map of the general layout of Heavens palaces was illustrated. He located the Gate quickly and traced his finger towards a very large building circled in red.

“So, here's the Vault, in this _modest_ little building,” Crowley whispered, stuffing the map back into his pocket. “Not that far away. I've got to say, this has gone far more easily than I expected. We might _actually_ get away with this.” He stood up, smiling, brushing his suit off and lightly shaking his head. He looked at Sam and Dean, who were saying nothing, just staring behind him.

“What?”, Crowley asked slowly, watching them carefully. “Oh... _bugger._...”

He turned around and his shoulders dropped when he saw the thirty or so Angels standing in the gardens field, regarding them cooly.

He raised his hands in the air slowly.

“Would it help if I told you that it was your _future boss_ that sent us?”, Crowley asked.

The lead Angel stepped forward. “If you will come with us please?”, she asked cordially, a tight smile on her face. It was not a request.

 

***

 

They were searched, pockets emptied and their equipment seized before being lead into one of the larger palaces. The Angels kept a very tight circle around them the entire way. Sam and Dean looked around in awe at the architecture – pillars seemingly reached into infinity, windows were set in intricate stained glass, doors were made of shining gold. Crowley shook his head.

“I need to reconsider my profit margins,” he grumbled, mostly to himself, as he regarded a marble statue depicting Michael casting out Lucifer, set on a flat circular dais of pure gold. “Looks like the real money is in _worship_ after all.”

The Angels took them to a large library, most of them staying behind at the door. Around ten of them continued inside, surrounding Crowley and the Winchesters.

In the middle of the library was a large wooden desk, and seated at it were three Angels, who looked up in expectation as they were brought forward. The one in the center of the table stood up.

“Have a seat,” he indicated gruffly, holding out his hand at three chairs that were waiting for them on the other side of the table.

Sam, Dean and Crowley looked at each other briefly and slowly sat down. The Angels watched them cooly, not a shred of emotion in their eyes.

“Soooo....” Crowley began, looking up, staring straight into the eyes at the Angel that had spoken to them. “How much _trouble_ are we in, exactly?”

The lead Angel met his gaze and finally cocked his head. “That all depends, Demon.”

“Name's Crowley,” Crowley answered quickly. “No need to start off this meeting on the wrong foot, after all. Or _wing_ , if you will. And you are?”

The Angel frowned in obvious disgust and looked away.

“Hm. Rude much?”, Crowley grinned.

The Angel turned back quickly.

“My name is of no consequence to one such as _you_ , Demon,” the Angel answered angrily.

One of the Angels at the table cleared his throat.

“Please, there is no reason to be hostile here,” he said evenly. “The Demon...er...Crowley...is simply introducing himself.”

“There's a _Demon_ sitting here in the Halls of Heaven, Astriel”, the first Angel spat out, rising from his chair and pointing at Crowley angrily. “And you don't believe there's a cause for _hostility_?!”

Astriel regarded his fellow Angel cooly. “No, Issiah, I don't believe that there is. Unless you actually feel _threatened_ by these three. Do we need to bring in some more guards for you?”

Issiah glared furiously at Astriel, but sat back down without saying another word. He did not look back in Crowley's direction, however, instead staring petulantly at the table.

Astriel sighed. “As you can see, unfortunately, we are not all of the same opinion as to what to do with you here at the Council of Heaven.”

“Seems about par for the course for you guys to me,” Dean said sarcastically, smiling at Astriel.

Astriel tilted his head. “Yes, I'm afraid we are a...rudderless ship. And we have been for quite some time.”

“You could _also_ say that those two are to blame for that,” the third Angel spoke up, glaring at Sam and Dean.

“Great, another fan....” Dean grumbled.

“I am called Obadiah, ape, and you will address me with _respect_!”, the Angel practically yelled, moving around the table towards Dean. Dean and Sam stood up.

“Stop it, all of you!”, came a voice from the library. Another Angel came forward, glancing from one to the other. Obadiah's anger vanished in the blink of an eye. He bowed his head and returned to his seat, head down.

The other Angel was a woman with red hair, a severely cut business suit, and carried herself with an unmistakable air of absolute authority.

“And who might we be?”, Crowley asked squinting. “You're an Archangel, _aren't_ you? My, my....aren't you an endangered species?

The Angel ignored him, moving to the head of the table and resting her palms flat on its surface.

She looked at Sam and Dean, deliberately avoiding Crowley.

“I am, in fact, the _last_ of the Archangels remaining here in Heaven. And believe me, I would prefer to return to my solitude rather than have to try to regulate...this,” she said, waving her hand in obvious disgust around her. “My name is Suriel.”

Crowley narrowed his eyes. “The recluse? Well, things must really be the proverbial crap-storm up here to actually manage to draw you out of your basement.”

Suriel finally turned towards Crowley. “And what would you know of my desire for solitude, Demon? For millennia I held the power of the primordial elements, carried the mantle of Death himself for the hosts of Heaven. Not even Michael was mightier than I.” She sighed, shoulders slumping.

“When Father left....I was already so tired....was I to take on the role of God as well?” She straightened up, her jaw set. “I was not created for that. _No_ Angel was. So, rather than throw my hat into this ring of civil unrest, I retired. But yes, rather than seeing the entirety of Heaven ripped apart by the current state of squabbling and infighting, I chose to return, temporarily. At least until Castiel has completed his mission.” At this last, she gave a hard look at Obadiah and Issiah, who made a point to keep staring at the table. “Because no matter _whom_ here will accept having Castiel in charge or not, it is Fathers will.” She looked up at Sam, Dean and Crowley. “Yes, I am well aware of all of the details of Chuck Shurleys prophecy as well. We are not exactly blind in Heaven to these events.”

An Angel that was with the group that had escorted them to the library from the garden stepped forward, dumping Sam, Dean and Crowleys equipment, maps and packs on the table in front of Suriel.

“They had this on them when we captured them,” he said quietly.

She sighed heavily and sat down. She closed her eyes and rubbed her temple with one hand, her elbow resting on the table.

“So, what is it exactly that you're here to steal?”, Suriel asked, sounding tired.

Crowley looked at Sam and Dean, who both shrugged.

“Well, since you have already _seemingly_ divined our purpose....”, Crowley began, breaking off as Suriel gave a loud, exasperated sigh, slapping her hand on the table and glaring at him.

“....the Register of Heaven,” Crowley hurriedly finished, gulping.

Suriels eyes widened and she shared a look with her fellow Council members. She nodded knowingly.

“What do you need the Register for?” she finally asked simply after considering Crowleys answer for a while.

“There's an Angel we need to find. One that's hiding, so...standard summoning will do no good.”

Suriels eyes narrowed. “Standard summoning is more than enough to bring an Angel to you, Crowley.....as you are _well_ aware. Please tell me, then, _which_ Angel exactly are you trying to summon?”

Crowley looked down at the table. He looked back up. “Fine. Gabriel. We're trying to find Gabriel.”

Suriel nodded, not looking surprised. “So, Castiel as well does not believe the rumors of Gabriels death.” She did not wait for a response, standing up, clasping her hands behind her back and striding away from the table. She turned back slowly.

“Gentlemen, I am afraid I cannot help you, you see, because the Register of Heaven has already been stolen.”

Crowley stood up. “What? How? When?”

Suriel met his eyes firmly. “Just recently. Taken directly out of the Vault.”

Crowley sat down heavily, eyes disbelieving. Sam sighed and Dean shook his head.

Finally, Sam raised his head. “Do you have any idea who took it? Maybe we can get it back.”

Suriel met his eyes directly, her cold, blue eyes steady and unblinking.

“We actually do have a witness. We know exactly who took it.”

“Who?”, Sam asked, his voice dry.

“Gabriel,” Suriel answered calmly, turning away from them and walking into the library.


	2. Hells x2

# Hells _x_ _2_

There was a shimmer in the air and an electric humming. Three figures began to resolve themselves in the twilight darkness. The shimmering slowly stopped and their shapes took full form. They looked around briefly and stepped forward into a marble-floored entry hall. Small candles burned in brass Fleur-de-Lis holders set in medium-sized columns in the walls. The first figure looked around and huffed out a breath in disgust.

“Gaudy”, he said, grumbling.

The one on the left side of the three looked around as well, his eyebrows raising as he did so.

“Oh, I don't know,” he replied. “It has a certain 'Villains Lair' quality to it. I kind of like it.” He smiled, his young face full of not-so-subtle mockery.

The first figure glared for a moment and sighed, turning away. “Brother, sometimes I wonder if you are actually  _trying_ to start a fight with me.”

The third one shrugged. “Could be fun....we haven't  _really_ fought in such a long time....”

“Stop it, please,” said the person in the middle. He looked around the hallway and through a couple of marble archways leading to other rooms in the building. “Where are we, anyway?”

“In the mouth of madness, so to say, young Mr. Turner,” said the third one, eyes glittering as he looked up at the ceiling. The ornate ribbed dome was decorated in a scene of pure horror. Black waves lapped at a bloody shoreline as tentacles and claws rose from waves, pulling helpless victims, or parts of them, into the darkness with them. The skill of the frescoe's execution did nothing except enhance its grisly depiction.

The first figure craned his neck around a corner and nodded. He took a step into the candlelight, his blond hair and teenage features resolving in the half-light. His eyes twinkled with a subtle white light, and stars seemed to dance in them. “He's this way. Come on Jesse, it's an opportune time to meet our principle abettor in this endeavour of ours.”

Jesse Turner looked confused. “Wait....our...what?”

The figure next to Jesse sighed loudly. “You'll have to forgive the Angel, Jesse”, the Demon said, placing both hands gently on Jesse's shoulders. “He has a tendency to talk like...well...a dork.” He grinned evilly at his brother's harsh frown. “He means our business partner. And yes, it's high time you two met.”

The walked through the archway, passing murals painted in the same style and theme as the ceiling. They seemed to be in a large mansion of some sort. Jesse felt himself involuntarily shudder. The entire place had a salty, briny smell to it, like it was next to the sea.  _Or under it._

The hallway opened up into a large sitting room. Books lined shelves that covered the walls, reaching three stories to the high ceiling. A rolling ladder was attached to one of them on the far end. A teenage girl was on it, sifting through the titles. She paused as the trio entered the room, turning her head and frowning. She carefully stacked a book she had been holding in her hand onto a pile of them next to her on the ladder's top step, and began to climb down.

Jesse scanned the room and saw there were several other people there, eight or so, all either engaged in conversation, reading, even a couple playing on a Playstation 4 plugged into a large-screen TV set in the wall. They had all turned when they entered the room, and started gathering together.  _They're all teenagers_ , Jesse thought, watching them closely. He squinted when he noticed that they also all were wearing either T-Shirts, jackets or sweaters with the Shield of Heaven crest emblazoned on them.

“Whoah, is that  _him_ ?”, one of them said, his eyes widening as he looked Jesse up and down, moving closer. “Damn, kid,  _Damien_ himself.”

“Don't look like much to me,” one of the ones that had been playing the video game said gruffly, standing still with his arms crossed. “And what's with the Crocodile Dundee style?”, he smirked, looking at Jesse's alligator-skin boots and Australian jacket.

“Have a care, Fredrick,” came a honey-smooth voice from a plush leather reclining chair set before a large fireplace. “He's more powerful than you can imagine.”

A hand reached out to a glass filled with amber liquid, it's sides sweating with condensation. He gave it a twirl, the ice-cubes jingling, before taking a sip and standing up. He was an older teenager, with slicked-back blond hair and piercing blue eyes. He was also wearing a sweater with the crest. He regarded the three silently and sighed, set down his drink and walked towards them. Jesse took in a sharp breath when he saw the vicious scar that ran along the left side of his face and down his neck, disappearing under his shirt.

The man moved past the other teens and stopped in front of Jesse, regarding him coolly.

“Hello Jesse,” he said smoothly, holding out his hand. “It is such a pleasure and a privilege to finally meet you. My name is Joshua, Joshua Vandecourte.” Jesse shook his hand, noting the strength in the grip.

Joshua smiled and then looked at the Angel and the Demon. His smile vanished.

“I must say, I am....disappointed in the turn of recent events, gentleman. That wasn't exactly how we had hoped things would have turned out now, was it?”

“Don't get smug with me, you....” the Angel started before the Demon slapped a hand palm first into his chest.

“Brother, please,” he said simply, not looking at him, instead locking eyes with Joshua.”Because, naturally, you're correct Joshua. Things did not go according to plan. Otherwise....”

“....otherwise, the world would already be in chaos, and my Masters would be revelling in their new realm, “Joshua finished, a hard edge to his voice. “Instead, you get tricked by that little hopped-up crossroads demon, and reveal yourselves on world-wide television.”

“Well, actually, there weren't that many people left watching at the time...” the Demon answered, shrugging.

“This is not the time for jokes!”, Joshua growled, his eyes narrowing. “What do you propose we do now?”

“Good question, got any suggestions?”, the Demon answered glibly, his eyes narrowing as well, a tight-lipped grin on his face.

Joshua turned and paced away angrily. “We should just kill them and be done with it.”, he said quickly, walking back over to the side table and pouring himself another drink.

The Angel sighed. “Do we really have to remind you  _why_ that is not even remotely possible at the moment, Joshua?”

Joshua sat down heavily, sighing. “No, of course not,” he mumbled, taking a long drink.

“So, since we're all agreed that ' _Joshua Smash_ ' is not a viable plan, are you willing to hear us out on a new one?”, the Demon answered, moving over in front of the chair with the Angel. Joshua waved his hand in the air dismissively, staring out of the window.

“Fine. Wow, it's no wonder God was able to trap you Old Ones in the Void in the first place. You have no ability to plot  _anything_ ,” the Demon said, following Joshua's stare out of the large picture window overlooking the ocean. The waves were stirred slightly by an approaching storm, rising and swelling gently under the darkened sky.

“We were...everything and nothing,” Joshua answered slowly, his eyes distant. “There was no need to 'plan'. Or consort. Or deceive. It was God and  _your kind_ that introduced that to the universe.”

The Demon nodded. “Ohhh-kay. But enough about the good old times. Let's talk about what's next.” Joshua sighed and took another sip.

“What is the next step, then?” he finally replied, his cool eyes looking up at the Demon and the Angel.

The Demon grinned widely, pouring himself a drink and downing it in one gulp.

“Oh, I think you're gonna  _love_ it.”

***

“Nope, not loving the idea,” Crowley grunted, getting up from his chair in the conference room and walking to the Big Board. “There's got to be another way to track him.”

Castiel sighed and rolled his shoulders back, staring at the ceiling. “Fine,Crowley, then you tell me how, and we'll do it,” he said gruffly.

Crowley turned towards Castiel and grimaced. “No one likes a grump, Castiel,” he said evenly. “I just don't like the idea of getting in touch with  _her._ ”

“Yeah, not too crazy about the idea either,” Sam replied from the end of the table, standing up and walking over to Crowley. “But it's the only way we've got left. If Gabriel has the Register of Heaven, that means that the Sigils written inside are his to control. He's probably changed his fifty times by now. Or just destroyed it. There's no way to summon him anymore.”

“And you think  _she_ can do it because...?” Crowley asked, his eyes narrowing.

“Because  _she_ has proven remarkably well adept at spell craft and summoning, using techniques and methods that even Angels and Demons aren't aware of. If anyone can do it, it's her,” Castiel answered, watching Crowley carefully. “Crowley, I know how you must feel about this....”

“No, I  _really_ don't think you do....,” Crowley bit back, wiping a hand over his face and pacing rapidly around the room. Sam, Dean and Castiel's eyes followed him. Finally, Crowley stopped and his shoulders slumped. “Ok. Fine.” he answered, his voice barely a whisper.

“Sorry, what?”, Dean squinted, cocking his ear towards Crowley.

“I said BLOODY OK! Do it! Summon the damned harpy! But,” he said, eyes wide, finger shaking in their direction. “You do it in that Bunker of yours. Away from here....and, you leave me the hell out of it!” He strode purposefully towards the conference room's door, slamming it behind him on the way out. Castiel stared after him.

“He...does that a lot lately,” Castiel said, almost apologetically.

“S'allright, Cas, I actually get him this time. I'm not too crazy about this either,” Dean replied.

“We have no other way,” Sam sighed. “This is, literally, our last shot. If this doesn't pan out, we can't track Gabriel, or any Angel, for that matter. We're dead in the water. It  _has_ to be this way.”

“Allright then,” Dean answered rising, pulling the Impala's keys out of his pocket. “Let's not just stand around here all day bitching about it. Let's do this.”

***

Two days later the three of them stood in front of a carefully assembled summoning altar in one of the interrogation rooms in the Bunker. The room had been carefully prepared with binding symbols and traps, with the altar itself set up on a flattened sheet of pure iron.

Sam nodded at Castiel, who nodded grimly back. Dean stepped forward and flicked a lighter  into an earthen bowl. Flames and acrid smoke rose lazily into the air.

“ _ Nos voco vos in nomen of veneficus professio quod nox noctis. Nos voco vos efficio iussu nostro. Nos voco vos o mater inferni, hic nobis iam , per is dedi of flamma quod cruor! _ ”, Sam chanted, his voice rising in tempo.

The room's light flickered and the altar shook. The air seemed to grow heavier as something began to form in the smoke pouring out faster and faster from the bowl, gathering on the floor.

A form rose from it and stretched lazily, turning around at the three and blinking in surprise, her blue eyes glinting mischievously, her red hair flowing in thick waves over her midnight black gown.

“Oh,  _ hello _ boys...” Rowena drawled in a thick Scottish accent, her lips drawing back in a friendly smile. “Now whatever is it would you be wanting of me?”


	3. Over the Dotted Line

# Over the Dotted Line

The black smoke twirled in tiny wisps in the air and vanished, leaving Rowena smiling and blinking at the three of them, her head slightly cocked to the side, a corner of her mouth twisted up in a half-smile.

Castiel cleared his throat.

“Rowena. I know....we haven't exactly always seen eye-to-eye on issues....”, he began.

“Oh, this wouldn't be about the time I put that teenie little curse on you, would it? That would be so....tiresome;” Rowena cut him off, yawning a bit.

“Um, no, it isn't. This is about....”

“Not revenge then? Oh, it can't be about my little Fergus, can it?”

“No, it's...well....it's”

“Oh! Good. Then you'd be looking for my help then! Now that _is_ amusing,” Rowena smirked, her eyes twinkling.

“Ok, enough of this crap,” Dean growled, stepping forward and pushing Castiel back with his arm. “In case you hadn't noticed, red, we've got you locked up tight in a place where all your little helpers can't find you.” He stepped closer and glared into her eyes. “That, plus, you can't do squat stuck on an iron sheet like that. In fact, there isn't anything keeping me from putting some heat on that iron plate there and turning you into a Texas-BBQ. So, shut up and listen.”

Rowena's smile faded and she put on a fake pout. “Oh, Dean, why so aggressive to someone that's never done a _thing_ to harm you? I thought you got rid of the Mark.”

Dean's eyebrows raised in surprise. “Seriously? Nothing? You mean you ain't counting the times you put hexes on everyone around us and tried to have us killed?”

Rowena turned her head slightly to the side. “Oh, well now, I wouldn't take that personally, now, lamb. I do that to _everyone_.” She turned her eyes back to him and smiled evilly.

Dean gave Rowena a tight lipped smile and nodded once, sharply. He then turned on his heel and walked over to a wall in the interrogation room and grabbed a butane torch. He clicked in on and began striding purposefully back towards Rowena, the blue flame leaving smoke trails in the air. Rowena watched him with interest, her smile not fading.

“OK, dude, stop,” Sam said, grabbing Dean by the shoulders. He turned him around and gave him a small shake of his head. He then walked towards Rowena carefully, as if she were a cornered animal, his hands palms up in front of him.

“Rowena,” he said slowly. “We just need to talk.”

“Oh...good cop, is it? OK, I'll play along,” Rowena answered coyly.

Sam sighed and nodded. “Fine. No need to get hostile.” He glanced over his shoulder at Dean, who frowned and clicked the torch off. Sam turned back to the witch and lowered his hands.

“Rowena, I don't know how much you know about what's going on up here...”, he started.

“Oh, you wouldn't mean the Archangel and his Demon friend trying to ruin the world now, would you?”

Sam's eyebrows raised. “Well..um...you know...pretty much...”, he stumbled.

“As much as you do?”, Rowena finished. “Oh, come now, dear lads, did you think that the Queen of Hell wouldn't be aware of everything going on out there? What do you think I spend all of my time doing down there?”

“I don't know....what do you spend all of your time doing down there?”, came a gravelly voice from the doorway. Sam, Dean and Castiel turned quickly and saw a shadowy silhouette standing there, hands in his pockets.

“Fergus!”, Rowena cooed mockingly, drawing his name out. “So good to see you again my wee lad!”

Crowley walked into the room slowly. “Oh, I very much doubt that,” he answered, not looking at her.

“Crowley, I thought you said....” Castiel started.

“Change of plans, Castiel, “ Crowley replied quickly. “I thought maybe it might actually do some good to find out what the old cow was up to.” He stopped in front of Rowena and regarded the sigils and iron plate. “My, my, you seem to be in a spot, don't you?”

Rowena's eyes glittered. “ Oh, now, things aren't always as they appear.”

Crowley shrugged. “Suit yourself. I don't see a way out of there. You're no Demon, so no quick escapes.” He looked up at her and squinted. “So, back to our original query. What _have_ you been up to down there?”

“Redecorating.”

“ _Redecorating_?”

Rowena sighed heavily. “Fergus, you held court in a warehouse basement, for star's sake!” She sniffed. “No sense of grandeur or decorum. You really didn't expect me to rule from there, did you?”

“I didn't _expect_ you to rule at all, to be perfectly clear,” Crowley grumbled, looking at the floor. He raised his eyes to her again, his eyes narrowing. “What kind of redecorating?”

“Oh, palaces mostly, Fergus. Great, grand palaces. Something actually fitting the throne. Even you'd appreciate it. Black towers gilded with gold, magnificent towers.....”

“Never really felt the need to put up towers, really,” Crowley grimaced. “Take from that what you will. Now, on to business.”

“I'm all ears, Fergus,” Rowena cooed.

“Surely,” Crowley mumbled. “Tell me, you don't really expect to stay on that throne for long, do you?”

Rowena's face hardened. “Is that a threat, little lamb?”

“Oh please,” Crowley said, waving his hand dismissively. “I don't make threats.” He leaned forward. “I make _promises_.”

Rowena's eyes narrowed at him before she smiled back. “You think I don't know about that prophecy of yours? The one that promises to put you back on _my_ throne?”

Crowley nodded. “Heard about that, have we?”

“There's nothing I don't know, Fergus. How do you think I know it's an Archangel and a Demon out there causing all of this?”

Crowley's forehead furrowed as the answer came quickly to him. “You were in contact with them,” he stated simply.

“Of course I've been in contact with them, you silly fool,” Rowena exclaimed. “What would you do, given the same circumstances? An edict from God himself proclaiming that Crowley will be returned to his throne? I had to protect myself,” Rowena protested.

“Playing both ends against the middle. I have to admit, I'm impressed,” Crowley mumbled to himself.

He leaned in closer to Rowena, practically whispering. “Who are they, Mother?”

“I'm sure I don't know,” Rowena replied, shrugging.

“Not sure I heard that,” Crowley growled dangerously. “So, I'll ask again. _Who are they_?”

Rowena glared back. “They never _told me_ , you know? They value their privacy, those two. Not to say that I blame them, with people like you out there searching for them....”

Crowley straightened up. “Why mother, that almost sounded like a compliment.”

Rowena shot him a sarcastic smile. “Don't worry, I won't be making a habit of it.”

Crowley smiled back. “What did they promise you?”

Rowena acted shocked. “Promise me? Whatever do you mean?”

Crowley rolled his eyes. “ _Really_?”, he asked, staring her down.

Rowena regarded him for a few seconds. “I'm sure you'll be willing to offer me more, then?”

Crowley grinned. “Almost certainly. Since 'not killing you' was most likely not on _their_ offer sheet.”

Rowena sulked. “Oh, Fergus....”

“Can it, mother,” Crowley replied. “Now, what did they offer you?”

Rowena shrugged. “I can keep my palaces.”

“But not your throne.”

Rowena sighed and nodded. “But not my throne.”

“How many palaces?”, Crowley asked.

“Three,” Rowena replied, watching him carefully.

“So....they offered you just the one, then,” Crowley replied, watching for confirmation in Rowena's eyes. When he was satisfied, he nodded. “In exchange for what, exactly?”

Rowena shook her head. “Oh, no, lamb, it doesn't work that way, and you know it.”

“I'm not the one on the hot plate, so-to-say, mother,” Crowley answered.

Rowena's eyes sparkled. “Oh, lamb, didn't I tell you, things aren't always what they appear to be?” At this, she reached into a pocket in her dress and pulled out a fistful of what appeared to be sand. She opened it up in front of her, letting it fall to the iron plate under her feet, covering it's surface. She smiled and walked forward over it to the concrete floor of the room. She looked around and smiled.

Sam, Dean and Castiel scrambled back. Rowena watched them and smiled. “Oh, relax,” she said. “I could have killed you when I first arrived if I wanted to.”

Crowley watched her from the side. “But you're here to negotiate, though, aren't you?”

Rowena turned back to him. “What do you think? I never needed to answer some feeble summoning spell in the first place. I may be the Queen of Hell, but I'm no simple Demon.”

Crowley nodded. “Of course not. We 'simple Demons' have standards, after all.” He grinned as she glared. Crowley smiled widely and held up a placating hand. “So, it appears we are negotiating, then. Now we're on familiar ground. I like that.”

Rowena sighed, crossing her arms over her chest. “'I'll make it simple, Fergus. 50-50.”

Crowley's eyes went wide. “ _Of Hell_? Are you _serious_?”

Rowena nodded firmly. “Of course I am. You have no _idea_ the things that the Angel and that Demon want done to you, Fergus, my dear. To _all_ of you,” she added, nodding at Sam, Dean and Castiel. “I think half is more than fair.”

“Oh, on that, we both agree,” Crowley added swiftly. “Let's try this, though. It occurs to me that your current....position....is threatened on one side by a maniacal Archangel and Greater Demon, and on the other by a prophecy from _God himself_.” He paused, raising his eyebrows meaningfully. Rowena finally looked away. “Not the most stable of kingdoms, mother. You're in serious danger. Now,” he continued, pacing around her, “Let's start again. Say I, out of the pure generosity of my heart, would allow you, say, you're own little separate Duchy of Hell? Completely cut off from the heart, of course. Spell warded. Unbreachable. But that's because of your previous actions. Those precautions are not my fault.”

Rowena stared at him, her mouth open. “What do you mean, 'completely cut off'?” she asked.

“It means, no more manipulations. No more stealing my throne. It means you are out of my life, once and for all, “ Crowley practically hissed. He exhaled, composing himself. “It also means, “ he continued calmly, “that you have your own kingdom of Hell to rule. Autonomously. _Complete_ control. It's a far better offer than a single palace, in my humble opinion. A palace, I might add, that they could, and probably will, the second they consider you a threat, destroy at any time, removing you in the process.”

Rowena glided over slowly to a stone bench set in the wall. She sat down heavily and put her head in her hands, watching the four of them with sad eyes moving from one to the other.

“Allright, Fergus, “ she whispered after a minute. “You win. Damn it all. You win. What do you need me to do?”


	4. Ruffling Some Feathers

# Ruffling Some Feathers

“You do realize, of course, that she's going to betray us?” Castiel asked matter-of-factly as Dean, Sam and Crowley walked next to him into the Bunker's main room.

Crowley was examining a list of ingredients for the spell that Rowena had written for them and checking off some objects with a pen. He raised his eyebrows without looking back at Castiel.

“Naturally, Castiel. I am  _ absolutely _ certain that that b....”, he paused, crinkling up the corner of his mouth and raising one eyebrow before continuing.  _ “....witch _ is looking for the first opportunity to screw us all over and toss us into the deepest pit of Hell. I'm not  _ that _ dense, you know.” He checked off a final item and handed the list to Sam, pressing it into his chest.

“Off you go, Moose. You have some shopping to do.” Sam sighed heavily and nodded at Dean before turning towards the railed concrete stairwell leading down into the Bunker's supply rooms.

Rowena had been sent back to Hell as soon as the contract that Crowley had prepared had been signed, without the requisite kiss, much to everyone's relief.

Castiel's brow was furrowed as he studied Crowley. Crowley exhaled and put his hands in his pockets, an exasperated and slightly impatient look on his face.

“Yes, Castiel? Something on your mind?”

Castiel walked forward. “I don't understand. If you know she's our enemy, then why promise her anything at all? A Dukedom in Hell, for example?”

Crowley smiled. “Choir-boy, we both know what we're doing. Tit-for-tat. She coughs up a spell, I cough up a Dukedom. Now, the real thing puzzling you is this; what are we both  _ really _ after?” Castiel frowned. “No worries, Castiel,” Crowley continued, moving to the table and sitting down in the head chair, swivelling it to the side and propping both of his feet up on the table. “Fool me once, as they say. She won't be getting the better of me this time.”

“Us,” Dean interjected. Crowley looked up at him and cocked his head. Dean stared back.

“You say something, Squirrel?”

“Us, Crowley,” Dean answered, “because, like it or not, we're  _ all  _ shoved into the same life-boat here. So, yeah, while you've got on an eye out on protecting your own ass – no big surprise there- some of us have to worry about the rest of the picture.”

“Your point being?”, Crowley asked, steepling his fingers and frowning, looking puzzled.

“It means, Crowley, that don't you go thinking for a  _ second _ that I haven't forgotten what you pulled back there in Mississippi. And if you think you're going to just skate out scot-free and leave us hanging, you've got another thing coming pal.”

Crowley smiled and sighed. “'Scot-Free', I like that, Squirrel. You're cleverer than you give yourself credit for. Ok, fine, warning heeded. Is there anything else?”

Dean moved closer to the chair and leaned in. “Yeah, actually, there is. That also means that if there's something you ain't telling us, you better share with the rest of the class. And I do mean right now.”

“Or you'll what?”, Crowley asked, his face questioning, with a hint of amusement.

**  
** Castiel stepped forward, clear warning in his posture. “I really don't think you want to try that, Crowley.”

Crowley looked up at Castiel, his smile fading. He swung his feet down and placed his palms on the table, standing up. “It's going to be like that, then, is it?” He raised his head to the both of them.

“If it has to be,” Castiel answered simply, stepping closer. “Partner or not, we will not be manipulated by you....um....again”, he added after considering for a second.

Crowley gave him a tight-lipped smile. “Fine. What's the question, then?”

“What's Rowena up to?”, Dean asked.

Crowley shrugged. “How should I know that?”

“Crowley....” Castiel growled.

“”What?”, Crowley shot back, exasperated. “Look, fellas, seriously, all I know is what you know. She gave up  _far_ too easily in there. That means she's got something brewing.  _What_ , exactly, I haven't a clue, honestly. But I'll be keeping out a keen watch for it.” He met their eyes expectantly. “That's it. I swear,” he added, his arms in surrender, palms up.

Dean considered him, arms crossed. “Yeah, that's worth squat...” he finally answered pacing away. He turned back, face scrunched up in anger. “You know? Why should I trust a single word you say, Crowley?”, he added, pointing his finger at him and striding angrily forward. “Give me one  _good_ damned reason! Because I can't think of a single frikin' thing keeping me from sending your ass back to that 'Big-Board' there in your office and as far the hell away from us as possible. Cause frankly, the further away  _we_ are, the less chance of collateral damage.”

Crowley frowned. “Now Squirrel, that _hurt_ ....”, he mock pouted.

Dean huffed. “I'm outta here,” he said, looking at Castiel and ignoring Crowley. “Let me know when Sammy gets back, Cas. I'm going to go find a beer. Or four.”

Crowley watched Castiel. “You want I should go as well?”

Castiel walked towards him, staring straight at him and not blinking. “Is he right?”

“Not trusting me? Of course he's right in that. A sign of remarkably good instinct. Not a trait I normally associate with either of those two. But sending me away? Wouldn't recommend it.”

Castiel squinted. “Why not?”

Crowley met his gaze steadily. “It's simple; I work with you, I get my throne back. Something that I've had a precarious grip on, unfortunately, since Moose there gave me that blood infusion. Now, I have to make  _moral_ decisions whenever I do something,” he spat out the word like it was poisonous to him. “Although, let's make one thing perfectly clear here; I can still rationalize just about  _any_ action, and if that means stomaching you three whilst regaining my kingdom, than so be it.”

“So...we should keep you here just because you can tolerate us just enough to get something that you want?”, Castiel asked shaking his head. “That's it?”

Crowley shrugged, “I can be a simple creature sometimes,” he answered.

“Sorry, Crowley, but that's not  _nearly_ enough....the second you can gain something without having to rely on us, you'll feed us to the wolves again.”

“You didn't let me finish,” Crowley broke in. “ _My_ reasons for wanting to stay here are clear. The reason  _you_ should want me to stay is this; you can't trust me? Fine. Let me give you some free insight then. Never turn your back on someone you don't trust when you can keep them in the same room with you. Both eyes on them. You never know when you'll see something important.”

The angel half nodded, considering what Crowley told him. He paused, turned, and began to walk away, turning halfway around and looking back over his shoulder after a few paces. “All right then, Crowley. You stay. For now. But remember this,” he added slowly, his eyes meeting Crowley's. “We'll be 'keeping a keen watch” out also. And the minute that I think you're putting us in danger to save your own hide, you'll have to answer to me.”

Crowley watched Castiel leave the room and sat back down in the chair. He traced his finger on the table. “Wouldn't have expected anything else,” he mumbled to himself before leaning back and looking at the ceiling, hand clasped behind his head. “Anything else at all.”

 

***

An hour later Sam was back in the main room with an armload of jars, bowls, books and quills. He piled them all on the table and called Dean and Castiel back in.

They assembled the spell components and Sam looked questioningly at Crowley, who nodded and shrugged.

“It's all there,” he answered the unspoken question. “This should take you straight to Gabriel, wherever he may be.”

“ 'You', as in, you're not coming with us?,” Sam asked.

“Oh, no,” Crowley answered, hand raised. “Me and Archangels do not traditionally get along swimmingly. Besides, this spell has an emergency cord built into it. You need someone here to anchor it.”

“Emergency cord?”, Dean asked, brow furrowing.

Crowley nodded. “The way this spell Rowena made for us works is this; instead of attempting to summon Gabriel through his Sigil, which probably no longer exists, this spell will seek out his unique Angelic frequency, which cannot be changed. Now, that frequency is no good for  _summoning_ , but it's fine for  _locating_ , much like finding a radio signal. This will send you three to it's strongest point, which, theoretically, is where Gabriel is manifested. Now, in case our dear Gabriel is someplace... _inhospitable_ ...or is less than happy to see you three after so much time apart, you will have a small golden thread tied to each of your fingers. Pull it, and it sets off a signal here, at which point, I call you back.”

 

“So....you're going to be air-rescue?”, Dean mumbled, not expecting an answer. “That's just great.”

“Just try to remember,” Crowley responded, looking pointedly at Castiel. “I gain nothing by having you three die just now. So relax.”

Castiel nodded to Dean and Dean shrugged. “Let's roll.”

Sam, Dean and Castiel grasped the edges of a golden bowl filled with scraps of paper inscribed with angelic script. Crowley poured a thick, golden honey-like liquid over it and chanted a few words. The scraps began to glow and send out a white, cloud-like smoke. Dean and Sam grimaced in pain as the smoke began to curl around their bodies, as a high-pitched whine began to fill their ears. Castiel nodded to himself. The sound of Angelic frequency.

“Hang-on!”, he shouted at Sam and Dean as the whining got louder and louder. Sam and Dean's eardrums strained in protest, the pain increasing. They squeezed their eyes shut as the volume increased, the smoke too thick to see through anyway.

There was a lurch and a feeling of  _pulling_ , and suddenly the whining was gone. Sam and Dean fell to the ground, grasping their ears, from which a small stream of blood flowed. Their teeth were gritted in pain. Castiel stood and scanned the room. They were in a small entranceway covered in drapes of some type. Castiel frowned, walking towards them and, at the same time, placed a healing hand on Sam and Dean's heads. They gasped in relief and groaned, standing up, and glancing down at their fingers. There was a small golden thread tied on the index fingers of each of their right hands.

Castiel held one of the drapes between two of his fingers and frowned. “It's...soft...like...”

“Velvet, “ Dean finished, looking around, confused. “We're in a halls covered in red velvet.”

“Do you guys hear that?”, Sam asked, moving towards one of the walls.

“Yeah...it sounds like....” Dean replied, moving over towards him.

“Music?”, Castiel asked.

Dean nodded, frowning. “Sort of....it's Def Leppard.”

 

 _Razzle 'n' a dazzle 'n' a flash a little light_  
Television lover, baby, go all night  
Sometime, anytime, sugar me sweet  
Little miss ah innocent sugar me, yeah, yeah

 

They moved the velvet curtain aside and walked slowly into a darkened room filled with disco balls and strobe lights. It was filled with tables, chairs and at least fifty patrons, their wallets out, paying for drinks and private dances. There was a large stage with poles in the center of it, and three half-naked girls were twirling up and around them, dancing to the music.

Dean nodded appreciatively as he scanned the room. Castiel looked around, his mouth half-open. Dean saw him and clapped him on the shoulder.

“Dean, I don't think we're in the right place....” Castiel began. “I believe Rowena tricked us.”

Dean shook his head, smiling, placing a hand on Castiel's' shoulder and leaned in conspiratorially.

“No, Cas, believe me, we're in the right place. Gabriel's here all right.”

 

 _Pour some sugar on me_  
Ooh in the name of love  
Pour some sugar on me  
C'mon fire me up  
Pour your sugar on me  
Ooh I can't get enough  
I'm hot, sticky sweet  
From my head to my feet, yeah

 

They scanned the room and moved over to the bar. A female bartender in pig-tails and an extremely tight tank-top came over to them. The words “Sugar-Daddies” was written on her shirt in grafitti-style lettering.

“What can I getcha fellas?”, she asked, wiping the bar with a cloth.

“Three whiskeys,” Dean replied quickly, slapping a twenty down on the counter. “And, maybe a word with 'Sugar-Daddy'. He around?”, he asked, looking up at her.

She frowned. “You guys cops?”

Dean and Sam automatically reached into their jackets and pulled out their FBI badges.

“Not exactly”, Dean answered, eyes twinkling. “Don't worry, he's not in trouble or anything. Just want to chat.”

“You FBI too?”, the bartender asked, looking up at Castiel.

“No, I'm an Angel of the Lord,” Castiel replied simply. The bartender took a step back, squinting. Dean rolled his eyes.

“Uh, what he meant to say was....”, Dean began, smiling. There was a loud screeching noise as the music came to a sudden halt. Dean and Sam both frowned and turned around.

The entire room was _frozen_ in place. A girl was suspended in mid-air in the midst of a leap, another arced around a pole with a seductive smile on her face. Castiel bristled and looked around.

“Gabriel...?”, he called out hesitantly.

They turned towards the sound of a glass being placed back on a table in front of a booth covered in shadows in the corner of the room.

“Castiel,” came a voice from the booth. “And Sam and Dean as well. Well...isn't this....special?”

A figure stood up from the table and moved into the room, his face resolving. Sam and Dean took a step back when they saw Gabriel. He looked thin, haggard, his face a myriad of lines and creases.

“Your alive,” Castiel stated. “And Suriel told us that you.....”

“That I stole the Register of Heaven,” Gabriel finished, still walking slowly forward. “ Which leads me to my next question; how in the hell did you find me?”

“Don't worry about that,” Sam answered. “There are more important things going on. Do you know what I'm talking about?”

Gabriel regarded him cooly. “Yes, I believe that I do.”

Sam swallowed hard. “Is it...is it you?”, he finally asked.

Gabriel squinted at him. “And what if I was? What exactly were you going to do about that?”

Castiel stepped forward. “Then we'd have to stop you.”

Gabriel gave him a weak half-smile. “Really Castiel? You gonna beat up your big brother?” He turned his steely blue eyes on Castiel and frowned. “You're different. What did you do?”

Castiel straightened up. His Angel blade slid from the sleeve of his trenchcoat as he kept moving forward. “Father did this.”

Gabriel's eyes widened in genuine surprise. “Father? You can't mean.....seriously? _Father_ father?”

Castiel's eyes narrowed as he regarded Gabriel. “You....you didn't know?”

“That you're practically an Archangel now, if I'm reading that power right? No, Cas, I really didn't.”

Castiel relaxed and his shoulders slumped. He put his blade away and shook his head looking at the floor. “It isn't you.”

Gabriel nodded slowly. “It isn't me. But it looks like someone went to a lot of trouble making you think that it was.”

“But you did steal the Register....”

“Of course I stole the Register!”, Gabriel shouted, slamming a fist on one of the tables. “It was the only way to be sure that I couldn't be found! Which, by the way, brings me back to my original question _mi amigos_ , how did you find me exactly?”

“Spell,” Dean answered quickly, stepping forward. “Look, Gabe, I'm so glad it isn't you that we're hunting, _believe_ me when I tell you that. But, is there anything you can tell us about who we are looking for? Because, you seem to know something about it.”

Gabriel sighed and nodded. “ _Mi casa, su casa_ , “ he answered glibly, a hint of his old humor shining in his eyes. “Sit down fellas. Have a drink. We have a lot to talk about.”


	5. Revelations: The Sequel

# Revelations: The Sequel

“So, what is it that you can do exactly?”

Jesse looked up at the kid who was talking to him. It was the same one from before that had said that he hadn't looked like much to him. Jeans, T-shirt, his hair worn in dark, even corn-rows. Jesse watched him for a second, looking him square in the eyes. The kid fidgeted a bit. He was scared. There was something else there, too, Jesse decided. He was in the same boat. He was in over his head. And he was smart enough to realize it.

Joshua, the Angel and the Demon had left a while ago to go plan something. They had given them no further details. The teenagers were not invited.

“What's your name?”, Jesse asked. He _nudged_ at the teen's mind. He had an ability to make people like him. Trust him. Tell him anything. He rarely used it, but he felt that if there was ever a time....

“Leon,” the kid answered cautiously. “Round here they call me 'MZ-Leon' all the time, though.”

“MZ?”

Leon gave him a half-smile. “ Master Zombie. On account of my power.”

Jesse nodded. He knew that all of the teens here had all been granted abilities by their hosts. He just didn't know what exactly they could all do. _Or why,_ he thought grimly, frowning.

“What about the rest there. You know what they can do?”, Jesse asked, nodding towards the others scattered throughout the room, engaged in pool games, reading, watching TV or engaged in quiet, private conversations.

Leon shrugged. “Most of 'em. Sarah, there, for instance,” he pointed to the girl who had been in the book stacks. She was now seated in an overstuffed chair with a pile of books at her feet, a volume of Tolstoy open in her lap. “She can open holes to other dimensions. Summon monsters. Lots of 'em.” Jesse nodded. “And Jones, “ he indicated one of the kids at the PS4 console, playing _Halo 3_. “He's got power over the undead. Vampires, ghouls and stuff. Zombies are mine, though.”

“And Joshua?”

“JV? Near as I can tell, he's in charge of the whole thing. Or he's some kinda partner. I've seen him give orders to the Angel and the Demon, so I figure he's the boss. He can do things. Magic. Transformations. Summonings. He's _off_ , though, man. He's always going on and on about the 'Old Ones' and returning kingdoms and shit. It freaks me out, to tell you the truth....whole thing gives off a whole James Bond master villain vibe. Don't like it.” ”

Jesse nodded again, more slowly this time. “Leon, any idea why? Has anyone said anything about that?”

Leon leaned in closer. “Man, they didn't tell you?”, he whispered.

Jesse looked back at him. “They told me some stuff.”

“What?”

Jesse shook his head. “You first. I want to see if they're telling us different stories.”

Leon nodded knowingly. “Yeah, I hear you. Good idea.” He looked around conspiratorially. “Well, you know about the other Angel and Demon pair, right? Castiel and Crowley?” Jesse nodded.

“Well, then you know they're trying to take over Heaven and Hell permanently, right? Bad , bad mojo, there, kid. These guys have been doing nothing but screwing the world up since they showed up on the scene. Them and those Winchester brothers. Nearly wrecked the planet trying to get control.”

Jesse nodded. So far, the Angel and the Demon had told him the exact same thing.

“Well, as far as I can tell, the plan is, release every Supernatural plague in history at these punks. Wear 'em down, and take 'em out. Then our boys take over. Put things back to the way it was,” Leon finished, smiling at Jesse.

“Leon, have you ever thought about all the people caught in the middle of all this?”

“Hells yeah,” Leon exclaimed, leaning back, looking offended. “Man, I ain't cold-blooded. But see, if Crowley and Castiel take over, the whole damned world gets flushed. Our boys will save it. Put things back the way they used to be. The way they _should_ be. But yeah, it ain't gonna be a walk in the park, you know? Castiel and Crowley are heavyweights. It's a war, man.”

Jesse frowned, leaning back. “Leon, who _are_ they? Have they ever mentioned that?”

Leon shook his head. “Nope. All I know is that they're heavys too. One of 'em's an Archangel, the other one a greater Demon. They don't exactly get along, you know? But the whole universe is counting on them.”

“With Joshua at the wheel?”

“Like I said, man, he's good with magic and stuff. I think he's the one that summoned them here in the first place.”

Jesse stood up, pushing his chair back. “Thanks, Leon. But I'm going to need more than that.”

Leon looked up at him quizzically. “Man, I know as much as anyone here. Where'ya going to get more?”

Jesse smiled.

***

“Jamisons all around,” Gabriel smiled and pushed a hundred-dollar bill at the waitress “Oh...wait, unless you want something else Castiel...orange juice?

Castiel grimaced. “Whiskey's fine.”

Gabriel's eyes widened in a bit of shock, but he nodded. “Whiskey it is then, little bro.” He sighed when the waitress left and leaned back in the booth.

“OK, you gonna let us in on what all of this is about?”, Dean asked impatiently, leaning over the table. “First, you ain't dead. Wanna start there?”

Gabriel rolled his eyes. “Oh please, don't tell me _that's_ what's confusing you.”

Dean nodded. “Good point.”

Gabriel raised his eyebrows and smiled, taking a sip from a tall drink he'd been working on, umbrellas brimming from the glass.

“Still. You stole that book. You're hiding.”

Gabriel swallowed, nodding vigorously. “Have you not been paying attention? That's what I do.”

Castiel's eyes narrowed. “Then why expose yourself by stealing the Register?”

Gabriel met his eyes, his brief mirth extinguished. “Why not?”, he asked slowly.

“Because everyone thought you were dead anyway. Who'd bother looking for you at all? Let alone with the Register?”, Sam asked, leaning forward onto the table on his elbows. Gabriel stared at him, not answering.

The waitress came back and placed four amber-filled glasses on the table in front of each of them. She winked at Gabriel.

“Thanks, Eve,” he replied, beaming back at her. “Keep 'em coming. I think we're going to need them.”

“Heard and obeyed, Sugar-Daddy,” Eve chirped back, moving away with the empty tray.

Dean raised his eyebrows, watching Gabriel. “Well?”, he asked after a while.

Gabriel sighed and downed the whiskey in one gulp. He exhaled heavily and stared at the table in front of him. “I'm being hunted,” he finally said.

“What...hunted?”, Castiel asked, surprised. “By whom?”

Gabriel shook his head. “You tell me, bro. All I know is that they are freaking relentless. Angel and a Demon. I believe you've been introduced.”

Castiel nodded. “So it's not just us.”

“Nope. Near as I can tell, it's all of the Archangels being hunted.”

“Wait, what?”, Dean stammered, nearly spitting out his drink. “Did you just say that these ass-clowns are hunting _all_ of the Archangels?”

Gabriel nodded sadly. “Yep. You heard me. They're after all of us.”

Sam leaned back. Dean let out a low whistle. Castiel frowned. “Who are they, Gabriel? Who would do something like that? And why?”

Gabriel shrugged. “Why is easy. Because there aren't many Archangels left. There's a power vacuum. A big-ish one. As to who, sorry to say, I have no idea. They've managed to mask their identities. That's another reason I stole the Register. I tried to find them with it.”

“You did what?”, Castiel asked. “I thought you said that you were hiding from them.”

Gabriel glared at him. “I'm not an idiot Castiel. I warded the room and guarded the summoning area in Holy Oil.”

Dean smiled. “Obviously you haven't seen that little trick of theirs, then.”

Gabriel's face scrunched up in confusion. “Trick, what trick?”

“The one where they switch from Angel to Demon and walk right through burning Holy Oil. Demon Traps also,” Dean replied.

Gabriel looked even more confused. “They...huh? Castiel?”, he asked, looking at his brother.

Castiel nodded. “It's true. They can somehow shift their energy matrices from Angel to Demon spontaneously. I've seen it myself.”

Gabriel leaned back in the booth, eyes widening, disbelieving. “How could....that's....that's never been done....and by that I do mean... _never_ , fellas. That should be impossible. You know that.”

“I know that. It doesn't change the fact that they've managed it somehow,” Castiel answered, rubbing his chin. “You said that you summoned some Angels, Gabriel. Who?”

Gabriel's eyes focused, meeting Castiel's. “Just Raguel. And Abel. I heard that Suriel was running things in Heaven right now, so her plate's full.”

“Abel?”, Sam frowned.

Gabriel nodded. “Promoted to Archangel.”

“You don't mean...Cain's brother, do you?”, Sam asked.

“No, I mean the ex auto-mechanic from Poughkeepsie. Of course I mean Cain's brother! Heaven needs new Archangels, and he was at the top of the list.”

“I didn't even know he was an angel,” Sam replied.

Gabriel shrugged. “First victim of murder, yeah, not hard to figure out why he got an instant pass. When Cain became a Knight of Hell, Michael and the rest of us Archangels decided to give his brother Abel his wings. Sort of a way to balance things out, I guess. Final approval came from Father, though. He was pretty impressed by Abel.”

Dean shook his head. “Impressed, why? For getting himself killed?”

Gabriel smiled bitterly at him. “No, you moron, for forgiving his brother.”

“Forgiving him...?”

“Yes, a saintly act,” Gabriel answered, half-smiling. “Abel still loved his brother. He forgave his heinous act. Said he'd love and protect his brother until the end of time. God thought very, very highly of that. Awarded him his wings.You two of _all_ people should be able to relate. ”

Sam half stood. “Gabriel, you summoned him...what did he say..?”, he asked cautiously.

Gabriel looked at him, puzzled. “What's the matter, Sammy? You've gone white.”

Sam looked at Dean, who's eyes were also wide. He turned back to Gabriel. “What did he tell you, Gabriel?” Sam asked again cafefully.

Gabriel shrugged. “Nothing....he said he wasn't involved. Raguel too. I used a spell....a binding agent. It made them tell me the truth.”

Sam nodded, relaxing and sitting back down. Gabriel looked around the table in confusion.

“Anyone want to tell me what that's all about?”, he demanded.

“When we sealed away the Darkness,” Castiel answered. “We had to put the Mark back on Cain. We cursed him. Again. When you said that Abel would protect his brother....”

Gabriel nodded. “....you thought that the new Archangel Abel wouldn't be all that happy with all of you about that. I get it.”

“Gabe, that spell you used, how sure are you that it was working?”, Sam asked.

Gabriel grimaced. “I know my spells, kiddo. No one gets one over on me.”

“Yeah, but, hear me out. If you didn't know about them being able to shift from angelic to demonic energy, and they did that while they were being questioned....would the spell still work?”

Gabriel frowned. He leaned back. “Huh,” he finally answered. “You know, I'm actually not sure....are you thinking.....?”

“That we need to have another talk with Abel?,” Sam replied, nodding quickly. “Oh yeah we do.”

***

Jesse inched closer to the door jam. He could just make out the voices inside of the small reading room. Leon pressed in close behind him. They had stealthily made their way onto the second story of the mansion, and managed to locate where their hosts were meeting.

“....so there will be no way to track him?”, one of the voices was asking. It sounded like Joshua.

“Not as long as he has the Register,” someone answered. _The Demon_ , Jesse thought.

Joshua sighed. “Gentlemen, this doesn't really help explain to me what our next step is going to be.”

“Same as always. We unleash Hell on earth. The Apocalypse that should have occurred will now happen. A new Book of Revelations will be written, and the world will be set to rights” a third voice exclaimed. Jesse felt a chill go down his spine.

“What about the girl,”, the Demon asked. “Has she been able to open the Portal that we asked for yet?”

Jesse peeked around the door jam and saw Joshua shaking his head. They were standing around an old mahogany table filled with books and stone tablets, huddled over them.

“Every dimension it seems but the one we're looking for,” Joshua answered, frustrated.

“It was always very well hidden. Hence our original plan. Which still seems, unfortunately, quite viable, if you ask me,” The Angel said.

“So, once again, our next course? In detail this time?”, Joshua asked, straightening and folding his arms.

“There are other ways in, you know,” the Demon replied.

“Other ways?”, Joshua asked. “I've never heard of any 'other ways'”

“”Well, we don't know everything, now, do we?”, the Demon answered, smiling.

“And neither do you,” Joshua snapped back venomously. “Despite your ego. Or would you care to be reminded what I had to do to get you two here in the first place?”

The Angel shot the Demon an exasperated glance. “There is no need.” He turned back to Joshua. “I think what my brother was _trying_ to say was; he is very well versed and read in several hidden paths and ways that have been lost...or misplaced....in the universe.”

“He means stolen,” the Demon replied glibly. “Or...to be more specific, he means that _I_ stole them....” He smiled at the Angel, who rolled his eyes and sighed.

“I suppose it doesn't matter how you know, Demon, only that you do. So, tell me, where's the other way in?”, Joshua asked.

The Demon smiled. “Ever been to Bermuda?”


	6. Showdown

# Showdown

Smoke began to rise from the golden bowl. Gabriel took a step back and nodded at Castiel. The two angels, Sam and Dean stood outside of the burning ring of Holy Oil. Drawn in blood on the floor inside of it was also a Demon's Trap, just in case.

“Seems that we're doin' this a lot lately,” Dean muttered.

“Hm?” Sam asked, looking over at his brother. “What're you talking about?”

“Summoning. Questioning,” he raised his eyebrows and looked over at Sam. “You know what bugs me about it all?”

Sam shook his head. “No. Tell me.”

“No answers,” Dean replied, head turning back to the summoning circle. “What've we got? I'll tell you what we've got...a whole load of nothing. There are so many suspects on our list, I can't even keep _track_ of them all anymore, Sam. Archangels. Demons. Abel, Cain, Raguel, Suriel....frikkin' Serpent of Evil...what the hell, Sammy? I feel like we're chasing our tail here.”

Sam shrugged. “I wish I could give you something.”

Dean nodded. “Something else is buggin me also.”

Sam exhaled loudly. “You wanna fill me in?”

Dean winced. “ What Chuck's Prophecy said.”

“Yeah. Yeah...that's been bugging me too,” Sam said. “Technically, we shouldn't be here at all.”

Dean shrugged. “Tell you the truth, I'm just glad to be doing something, _anything_ to help out at all. But I keep coming back to what Chuck said....”

“Yep. Stay out of the way or catastrophe would follow,” Sam nodded. “But Dean, we are taking a back seat here, right? Letting Cas and Crowley do the driving? Honestly, that's gotta be good enough, right?”

Dean looked at him in the eyes. “You asking me?” He frowned. “I hope so, Sammy. I really frikkin' hope so.”

The smoke began to thicken and Gabriel began to chant. A form began to materialize.

 

***

 

Jesse started to move away from listening at the door, a sick feeling in his stomach. The Apocalypse? They _wanted_ it to happen? They had lied to him. They told him that they wanted to prevent Castiel and Crowley from causing it. That means that the Angel lied too. Jesse shut his eyes, anger building in him. _He was the only one of those two that I even trusted_....

He stopped short as Leon grabbed his arm. Jesse looked at him.

Leon put a finger to his lips. “Hold up, man, Somethin's up...” he whispered.

Jesse frowned and looked back into the room. The Angel was looking up at the ceiling. There was smoke rising from his body.

“Brother?” The Demon asked, cocking his head.

“It's nothing, Brother,” The Angel smiled. “Someone's pulling on one of the little strings in our web is all. I'll be right back.”

With that, he turned to smoke and disappeared. Joshua rubbed his chin. “What the hell was that supposed to mean?” he asked, irritated.

The Demon smiled. “It means that we're about to be one important step closer to our goal, I believe,” he answered, grinning. “Let the games begin....”

 

***

 

The form took shape, and a young teen materialized in the middle of the circle, eyes blazing white. Gabriel looked back at the others and nodded before turning back.

“Abel?”, Gabriel asked.

The figure slowly raised his head and met Gabriel's eyes. He then looked around at the burning oil, his eyes finally coming to rest on the Demon Trap on the floor. He frowned and looked up.

“Gabriel. Why have you summoned me yet again?”, he asked.

“Seems there's still some questions that need answering Abel,” Gabriel said, moving closer. “Might be you weren't being completely honest with me.”

“I had no cause to lie, Gabriel....and didn't you yourself tell me that you had used a spell to compel me to be truthful?”

Castiel stepped up next to Gabriel. “We have reason to believe that it could have been....circumvented.”

Abel's eyes narrowed. “Castiel? What are you doing here?” He looked back to Gabriel. “I thought you told me that you had hidden yourself from all detection.”

Gabriel nodded. “Yeah. Well, he had help.”

“That'd be us,” Dean said, walking towards the circle, Sam at his side. “So, how 'bout it, chuckles? Did we get it right this time? You who we've been chasin' all this time?”

 

Abel's eyes narrowed. His lips curled back in rage... “You.....”

Dean looked at Sam and shrugged. “Yeah, us...so? You gonna come clean? Or do we have to get more persuasive?”

“You're the ones that _cursed_ my brother with that damnable Mark again, “Abel hissed. He looked menacingly at the ring of fire. “If this wasn't here...”

“What?”, Gabriel broke in calmly. “Abel, there are two powerful Angels standing here in this room. How would you be doing anything?”

Abel glared. “You underestimate me,” he growled.

“Really?” Gabriel turned his head to the side curiously. “You got enough juice to take us all on?”

“They cursed my brother for all eternity,” he answered menacingly. “Do you think for a moment that I will let that go _unpunished_?” He focused his eyes back on the Winchesters. “I will tear them limb from limb.”

“ _Now_ you're talking like an Angel,” Dean quipped. Gabriel and Castiel turned towards him simultaneously, eyebrows raised questioningly. Dean shrugged unapologetically “What? I didn't mean you two....and you gotta admit, most of you guys are a bag of dicks....”

Abel growled and lunged at the circle. It wavered. He spun from it and a metallic ringing sound hung in the air as he drew his Blade. “I _will_ break free of here!”, he screamed.

“Yeah, not likely,” Sam answered. “We got the Demon Trap there too, just in case.”

Abel frowned. “A strange precaution to take,” he muttered. “What if I'm powerful enough to break free of the Holy Oil?” He reached out his hand and closed his eyes. The room shimmered with power.

“Go ahead, try it”, Gabriel smiled. “No Angel is powerful enough to....”

There was a whoosh of air and the room shook. The flames from the burning oil swirled in the rush and blew out, smoke rising. Abel looked around him, a note of surprise on his face, then back up at them and smiled.

“It seems that perhaps I _am_ powerful enough after all,” he said, advancing.

Gabriel's eyes widened. “How did you? Was that...?”

Abel's hand shot out and shoved Gabriel hard to the side. He flew threw the air and crashed though a table against the wall, the table shattering, it's contents rolling on the floor. Castiel moved swiftly to block Abel's path, but Abel spun to the side, lashing out with a kick, sending him sprawling. Abel, breathing hard, looked up at Sam and Dean, his mouthing curling into a wicked smile.

“I'm going to break every single bone in your little bodies for what you did to my brother!” he spat, lunging for them.

An inch from Dean's face, he was yanked backwards, a hand on each of his shoulders, one from Castiel, and the other from Gabriel. They flung him forcefully to the ground. He landed in a heap on the Devil's Trap. Gabriel and Castiel moved as one and pinned him down there, their Angel Blades aimed at his throat.

“Abel, stop this!”, Castiel shouted. “We don't even know if you're the one that we're ...”

The lights in the room flickered. Gabriel looked around, puzzled, Castiel as well. He looked back down to Abel, who was snarling and fighting.

Abel's eyes flashed from white to red.

Castiel drew in a shocked gasp, then, jaw set, he plunged his Angel blade into Abel's chest.

The room shook as white light streamed all around them, rushing out from Abel's mouth and eyes. The blast hit Gabriel and Castiel in the face, Gabriel holding a hand out in front of his to block it, turning slightly away.

When Abel went limp, Castiel fell backwards, panting.

Gabriel stood up slowly, staring at Abel's body.

“Castiel...” he said slowly. “Castiel, what did you just do?”

“It's....it's OK,” Castiel grunted, standing up and facing his brother.”It's OK. It was him. I saw it.”

“You saw what?”, Gabriel asked.

“His eyes. They shifted. They turned from Angel to Demon. I saw it.”

“Are you sure?”

Castiel nodded grimly. “Absolutely positive.”

Gabriel sighed. “Well, that's a big relief, then, I guess.”

Castiel shook his head. “No, that's actually a big problem.”

“How so? One down, one to go, right?”, Gabriel asked, his brow creasing.

“It's the one to go that's the problem,” Castiel answered, his voice hardly a whisper. “If Abel was the Angel....”

Dean let out a low whistle.

“....that means Cain is the Demon,” Sam said, walking up to them. “and that means...”

“...that means that we can't just kill him,” Castiel finished, looking up. “He bears the Mark. Killing him, besides being nearly impossible, would release the Darkness again.”

“So....what do we do?” Gabriel asked slowly.

“Easy,” Dean said. “ We catch the son-of-a-bitch and lock him away where he can't do a thing again.”

Sam nodded. Castiel wiped his Blade clean an tucked it into his trenchoat. “What's the next move?”, he asked, meeting Dean's eyes.

Dean stared back, unblinking. “We go hunting.”

 

***

 

Jesse watched the area where the Angel had disappeared for a full five minutes before deciding that he had better get back with Leon to the other teens. He was getting up to go when the air in the room started to shimmer, and a form began to materialize.

The Angel appeared back at the table and smiled triumphantly at Joshua and his brother.

“Aaaannnnnd...?” The Demon asked, a smile of anticipation on his face.

The Angel grinned back and clapped the Demon on the shoulder.

“And.....that couldn't have gone _any_ better,” he answered. He turned to Joshua.

“One less Guardian at your Master's Gates, Joshua,” he said, his eyes twinkling. “A few more and the way will be clear.”

Joshua smiled back. “Well then, it appears that you two are back in my good graces.” He walked around to a cabinet and pulled out a whiskey bottle.

“So, a short celebration? And then, I do believe you mentioned something about Bermuda?”

 

 

 

 


	7. The Conquering Heroes....

# The Conquering Heroes....

Dean, Sam and Castiel walked back into the Atlanta office grim and determined. Justin greeted them at reception and told them the Crowley was waiting for them in his office. They walked down the long hallway and found the deep brown mahogany door to his office open.

Crowley himself was seated behind a large desk typing something into a laptop. There were two large leather chairs in front of the lavishly decorated office facing the desk, turned from the doorway. Books of all types lined the shelves behind him, set on shelves at least twenty feet high. A ladder with rolling wheels was attached to the far end of the bookshelves. He glanced up as the three entered and raised his eyebrows before closing the computer and leaning back, regarding them carefully.

“So, from what you told me, all went well, the Archangel in the equation is out of the picture?”

Castiel exchanged a quick glance with Dean and Sam and nodded. Crowley's eyebrows rose further.

“What?”, Dean exhaled impatiently. “Somethin' on your mind?”

“As a matter of fact, something is, in fact, on my mind,” Crowley said leaning forward. “It has come to my attention that you may have acted a bit...hastily, not to put too fine a point on it.”

Castiel bristled. “Hastily, how? I told you when I called...”

“Yes, yes,” Crowley said dismissively, waving his hand. “You saw his eyes change colors. Very convincingly at that as well.” He frowned, craning his neck around Castiel at Sam and Dean, trying to look behind them. “Where's Gabriel?”, he asked, brow furrowing.

Castiel stared right back. “We left him at his hiding place. He didn't want to leave it, why?”

Crowley paled. “Because you might have just put him in serious danger, that's why.”

“OK, what the hell are you even talking about, Crowley?” Dean said, shoving forward. “First off, you say we screwed up by killing Abel, now you say Gabriel's in some kind of danger.... how do you figure any of this? Where's your information coming from?” He slammed his palms on the desk, glaring at Crowley. “I told your ass back in the Bunker, no keeping information from us. No behind our back schemes, and most of all, none of this smug 'I know more than you do' crap like you're pulling right now. So, out with it, Crowley! What the hell is going on here?!”

Crowley smiled back at him closed-mouthed and nodded slightly to the chair behind Dean. Dean looked back at Crowley in confusion for a second and spun around.

  
  


Scrunched down in the chair was a small, bearded man, his hand holding an icepack over his eyes. He slowly lowered it and regarded Dean with red-rimmed eyes.

“Hey there fellas,” he said, forcing a smile.

“Chuck?!”, Dean exclaimed, taking a step back. “What're you....I thought....”

Chuck slowly shook his head as Sam and Castiel also moved in front of the chair. “Nah, nah you're right. I said I'd be laying low. But you know, the funniest thing happened...”

Dean and Sam exchanged a glance. “What?” Sam asked dryly.

“You two!”, Chuck said, half standing out of his chair. Castiel involuntarily flinched at the outburst.“You two happened! Didn't I _tell_ you to stay the hell out of this?”

Castiel frowned. “Your _prophecy_ , actually stated that they should not interfere, not you specifically....”

Chuck sighed, rubbing his eyes with two fingers. “Yeah.....yeah...whatever. But still, I gotta ask,” he continued, raising his eyes to them again, looking very tired. “Why on earth didn't you listen? You know how these damned prophecies work, especially if you try to change them. Why aren't you back in the Bunker?”

Dean licked his lips nervously, Sam fidgeted. “Actually, Castiel and Crowley called us for our help. Jesse Turner showed up, and we've dealt with him before. Personally. They thought that we....”, Dean started to explain.

“Doesn't matter,” Chuck said. “It doesn't matter. You were not supposed to interfere.” He looked to the side, suddenly very sad.

“Chuck, what happened?”, Sam said. “How do you even know we were here?”

Chuck looked up at him. “I think you already know the answer to that, Sam.”

Sam stared back, open mouthed for a few seconds, then nodded. “You had another vision?” he asked rhetorically. Chuck nodded, putting the ice pack back on top of his head.

“What was it?”, Castiel asked, leaning back on the desk for support.

Chuck sighed. “Pretty bad fellas,” Chuck said, keeping his eyes shut. He pulled out a USB stick and handed to them. “Wrote it down. I know everything that happened.”

Sam took the stick and plugged it into Crowley's laptop. Crowley flipped the cover open, typed in his password and opened the document in his word program.

“I'll save you the trouble,” Chuck said, his voice just over a whisper. “They played you. They left you alive and fed you clues back in Mississippi to make you go looking for Gabriel. Which you did. _And_ you found him....which they couldn't. And then when Abel showed up....well, they were watching him. Watching all of the Archangels, as a matter-of-fact. Led them right to you. The Archangel went to you guys, put on a show, and made you think that it was Abel.”

“That's impossible,” Castiel grunted straightening up. “There was no other presence in that room. Gabriel and I would have sensed it.”

Crowley grunted in agreement. “Those two seem incredibly adept at hiding their presence, however. “

Chuck shrugged. “Well,  _something_ was there. Blew out the Holy Oil and changed Abel's eye color. And since Abel was already enraged and furious....” Chuck looked up at Dean and Sam accusingly. “Don't you get it? The situation was bad enough without you two there. If you hadn't been there, Abel wouldn't have been so damned hostile.”

“Now wait a minute...” Castiel began.

“No, no, you know something? he's right,” Dean said, placing a hand on Castiel's shoulder. He nodded slowly. “Abel lost it when he saw us.” He hung his head and shook it from side to side, looking away. “We stuck our damned fool noses in, and got someone killed. Again.”

“Dean, c'mon, we had no way of...” Sam started to say.

“No Sammy!”, Dean shouted. “Not again! We never listen. We  _never_ frikkin' listen! And I'm the worst out of both of us. I got  _so_ caught up in getting out of the Bunker and hunting again. Geezus, what the hell is wrong with me?!” Dean exhaled loudly, swinging his arm around and sending a green shaded lamp that had been sitting on Crowley's desk crashing into the wall. Crowley looked up at Dean calmly and frowned.

“Are you finished? Because that's going on your bill, Squirrel,” Crowley stated. Dean glared back.

“Guys?”, came a meek voice from the chair. They all turned back towards Chuck.

“Sorry. But Abel's death isn't the worst of it.”

“Sorry, what?” Dean asked, squinting. “What else could frikkin' go wrong?”

Chuck hung his head before looking up. “Remember when I told you that you led them right to Gabriel...?”

Castiel turned white, a look of shock on his face. Crowley rose slowly from his chair, glancing down at the open manuscript on his laptop, reading. “Oh. Oh dear,” he said quietly, looking up.

 

***

 

The club was a slaughterhouse. The bartender was dismembered , several pieces of her body strewn across the room, joining the bodies of the patrons and dancers, all of their faces twisted in terror. Castiel, Crowley, Dean, Sam and Chuck moved carefully into the room, Chuck gagging into a handkerchief. Castiel held his Angel's Blade at the ready.

Crowley gave a low whistle. “You know something Mr. Shurley?”, he asked without looking back at him. “The next time that you use the phrase; 'the worst of it.'; I do believe that I'm going to be listening.”

“Guys, look over there,” Sam said, his voice cracking. He was staring at the corner booth. Castiel followed his gaze and immediately dashed over, knocking the tables that were still standing out of the way.

“Oh no, no....” He said in a whisper as he reached the corner. His arms dropped to his sides limply. The Angel's Blade clattered to the ground, the metallic ring echoing in the room.

Gabriel's body was pinned up behind the table, halfway up the wall, his eyes burned out. Black wings were burned into the wall, and singed flecks of paint fell to the ground and swirled through the air. His body was covered in blood, wounds too many to count. Castiel sunk to his knees.

“Is that...is it...real?” Sam croaked. He turned towards Chuck, who was also openly staring at the scene. “Chuck?! Is it real?”

Chuck's jaw moved before words came out. “What...? Whatd'ya mean is it real? Look at it, Sam. He's....”

Sam shook his head vigorously and grabbed Chuck by the shoulders, giving him a slight shake. “No. No, Chuck. Gabriel's faked his death before. You said you knew that. What about now. What about right now? Is he really dead?”

Chuck shook his head from side-to-side...”I .....I don't...”

“Nothing? No visions? No story? Are you telling me that you don't know?”

Chuck blinked away tears, looking back at Gabriel before looking back at Sam. “No...I no, I don't know for sure.” He shook his head as if to clear it. “I mean, it _looks_ real.”

Sam sighed and released Chuck's shoulders. “That's actually good news, “ he said, wiping his face with his hand. “Really good news.”

Crowley looked up from his examination of the corner table. “How do you mean?”

Sam nodded. “Gabriel's faked his death so many times, there's every probability that this isn't him.” Dean nodded in agreement.

“Sam's right,” he said, wiping his hand over his mouth. “Probably ain't him.”  
Chuck nodded, looking from one to the other. “Guys...?”

Crowley leaned in closer to the corpse. “Well, if it isn't him, I gotta hand it to him...that's one hell of a stage prop.....”

“Guys?”

Castiel had leaned in closer as well. “Those are the actual harmonic remnants of burned out Angel wings. There's no way to fake that....”

“Fellas!”

They all turned to look at Chuck, who was nervously hugging himself.

“Can we  _please_ go back now?”, he asked, picking his shoes out of a puddle of blood on the floor and looking pointedly away from it.

 

***

 

“.....said he was being hunted. That all of the Archangels were being hunted,” Sam was explaining to Crowley as they rematerialized back in his office, this time in the meeting room. Crowley picked up a remote and clicked the Big Board on, pulling up a menu listing Archangels.

Crowley picked up a digital pen and clicked a portrait of Gabriel and then added Abel. He then crossed them out with large X's across their faces. He then pulled up portraits of Raguel, Suriel, Ramiel. Then he pulled up a few others that were already crossed out. He frowned.

“And then there were three....”, he said, looking up at the remaining portraits.

Dean grunted. “Two, probably. We met Suriel, remember. She ain't who we're looking for.”

“Don't help,” Crowley said still looking at the screen.

“What?”, Dean exclaimed. “You think she could be the one?”

Crowley lowered his gaze at him. “And how many times has the _least_ suspicious suspect on the list turned out to be the bad guy the entire time?” He raised his eyebrows.

Dean nodded. “Yeah, OK, you have a point.”

Crowley nodded. “Besides, that wasn't really a request. You heard your friend Chuck there. I mean it. Stop helping.”

“C'mon Crowley....”, Sam said, moving over towards the board.

“Sorry, Moose, but I'm afraid that I must insist,” Crowley said impassively with a shrug. “I don't mean to be overly rude, but, well, let's face it, it's _me_....” He sighed and turned towards them, hands in his pockets. “It occurs to me that the longer that you two are here, the more chance of something else going horribly wrong.” He watched them in silence for a while. “No hard feelings. Honestly. I believe that you were genuinely trying to help. But, well....”

Sam nodded. “No, Crowley. I get it. And you know, weirdly, I think I actually agree with you this time. We need to step back.” Dean rubbed his neck, huffing. “No, Dean,” Sam said slowly. “No. We never saw that coming. How could we? It's just like the last time that we tried to beat Chuck's visions. That damned hotel and Lilith. The van and the Band-Aids. Even the damned burger in the restaurant. We can't fight Prophecies. We just can't Dean. We need to go.” He sighed and nodded at Castiel and Crowley. “There's no rule about keeping us updated though, right? Right?”, he asked again, looking back at Chuck, who smiled grimly.

Dean nodded. “Allright, we're outta here. Cas....?”, he said, turning to the Angel. “I'm...sorry, man. We tried to do our best. And Gabriel....”, he smiled tightly. “No way he's gone, Cas. You gotta believe that.”

Castiel nodded, meeting Dean's eyes. “I know, Dean. Please, be careful.”

Dean nodded. “Always.” He nodded at Sam, and they walked out of the conference room with Chuck trailing. Chuck looked over his shoulder before walking out. “You two,” he said. “You two be careful too. There's a lot riding on you.” He smiled tightly and left.

After a while Crowley broke the silence.

“We're asking the wrong questions, Castiel.”

Castiel looked up and walked over to Crowley. “What do you mean?”

“Instead of asking _whom_ it is we're looking for, we need to be asking _why_?”, Crowley said, looking at Castiel.

Castiel looked confused. “Why what?”

“Why kill the Archangels? I'm not buying the power vacuum explanation. Someone's going out of their way to remove the pieces from the playing field. My question is this: To what purpose? What would removing all of the Archangels do to the world? Or _for_ someone? We answer that, we have the upper hand again.”

Castiel nodded. “I agree. I'll look into it. There are several functions in the Universe that the Archangels carried out.”

Crowley nodded back. “Try not to look so much as to what each one did, Castiel. Instead look at the big picture. What did they do as a group?”

Castiel nodded. “I'll keep you informed.” With that, he vanished.

Crowley sighed, looking back at the Big Board. He walked closer to the picture of Suriel and stared at her eyes, squinting, before shaking his head and turning the Board off, leaving the room in darkness.


	8. Genesis: Part 2

# Genesis: Part 2

Castiel walked back into the conference room and regarded Crowley sitting at the table with a large tome opened in front of him. Crowley was putting the remote for the Big Board down with his left hand. Castiel glanced over at the screen, but it was at the default setting, showing only folders. Castiel frowned, looking back to Crowley.

“What were you looking at?”, he asked, moving over to stand behind one of the chairs.

Crowley looked up, bemused. “What? Nothing. You'd find it incredibly boring, actually.”

Castiel looked down and shook his head. “You're lying to me. Again”, he said quietly, before looking back and meeting Crowley's eyes.

Crowley was smiling. “Now, Castiel, before you go throwing around accusations....”

Castiel's glare intensified, and Crowley let out an exasperated sigh. “Fine, Castiel, I can show you, but I promise you, you're not going to like it.”

Castiel's eyes narrowed. “Show me, and I'll be the judge of that.”

Crowley didn't blink. “Now that's a dangerous thing there, isn't it”, he said carefully.

“What is?”

“Angels thinking that they can judge things. And, no particular offense intended, especially the Angel standing in this room.”

“What do you mean by that?”, Castiel asked, his tone lowering.

Crowley's gaze remained steady. “Out of the two of us, Castiel, who here among us has ever gone on a maniacal killing spree in the name of justice and judgement?”

Castiel bristled, straightening up. “Crowley...I was....you do realize that I was being slowly corrupted by around a hundred million souls from Purgatory at the time, including the entire race of Leviathans....”

“But you do admit that when an Angel starts getting judgmental, no matter what the circumstances are, things tend to get a bit...shaky, if you get my meaning.”

Castiel squinted. “Not really. What are you getting at Crowley?”

Crowley shrugged. “Nothing I suppose. Just...try to think first before rushing to judgement.” With that he picked up the remote and the Big Board switched to a series of closed circuit video feeds. Castiel walked to the screen, his eyes narrowing and mouth opening. “Crowley....is that...?” He spun towards Crowley, eyes blazing, furious.

Crowley was watching him with an air of curiosity. “Now, Castiel, what did we just talk about?”

Castiel's gaze did not soften. “You put a camera in Heaven's library?! To spy on them?!”

Crowley looked nonchalantly at the Big Board. The Council of Heaven was sitting around the large meeting table, receiving reports from Angels. Suriel sat at the head and was nodding and taking notes. Crowley smiled and looked back at Castiel.

“Yeah. Yeah....I suppose I did.”

Castiel slammed a fist down on the table. “Crowley, this isn't a joke! Disable that camera immediately!”

Crowley frowned. “I will do nothing of the sort”, he replied, taken aback, steepling his fingers.

Castiel moved dangerously around the chair to stand in front of Crowley. He pointed back angrily at the Big Board. “You take it down, Crowley, or I will tear the whole thing apart,” he growled.

Crowley leaned forward in his chair. “I said no, Castiel, “ he growled back, looking him dead in the eyes. “This is the single best source of information we have at the moment, and the last thing I'm going to do is disable it!”

Castiel watched him for a few seconds, his eyes scanning Crowley's face angrily. “Fine,” he answered, straightening up and spinning back to the Board. He dropped his Blade into his hand and began to move quickly towards the wall.

“Castiel, don't you even want to hear why it's so important to keep an eye on that lot?”

Castiel stopped and looked back at Crowley over his shoulder. “So you can spy on Heaven, obviously. I don't care about your reasons for doing it. If it's you, then it's for no good intention.” He hesitated and turned a little back towards him. “Tell me that I'm wrong, Crowley,” he asked, raising his head.

“Fine then. You're wrong,” Crowley answered evenly. Castiel turned the rest of the way around, still angry. He waited for Crowley to continue.

“It's like I said, Castiel, the mere fact that she's the least suspicious of the Archangels makes her the prime suspect in my eyes,” he raised his hand as Castiel began to protest. “If you think she's innocent, fine. Let it come out. But with this video feed, we can get actual confirmation of that. Not some second-hand, wild-goose chase information, but actual proof. If you have a better way of doing that, then by all means, disable the camera. If not, then I'd suggest that you listen to reason here.”

Castiel turned back to the Big Board, considering. “Suriel....Crowley, she's one of the most loyal Archangels in the history of Heaven. She carried the mantle of death for God during the formation of the universe....I can't believe that she'd be the one behind trying to destroy everything she fought so hard to maintain.”

“And that's the problem, Castiel. You Angels never see this coming. First Lucifer, the Lightbringer, the mightiest of you all, starts a rebellion in Heaven, and is cast down. Then, much more recently, the next big Kahuna - Michael. Goes insane, proclaims God dead and tries to start the Apocalypse. Who's the most powerful one left now, Castiel?”

Castiel turned back slowly to the screen. “Suriel...”, he answered, his voice barely a whisper.

Crowley grunted and got up from his chair. He walked over to stand next to Castiel, looking at the screen before looking at him. “That's why I was asking you to reserve judgement, Castiel. I wasn't trying to be funny here. You Angels have a very, very bad blind spot when it comes to one of your own. Something in the realm of honor and loyalty, I suppose. Not your fault, it's hard-wired into your programming. Trust me, I've seen it, I know.” He looked away as Castiel's glare returned. “Now, here's where having a Demon as a partner is a benefit. I give less than a damn about loyalty. Or honor. So, yeah, Castiel, I bugged that bitch's conference room the second I sat down in it. If I'm wrong, then so be it. Let me see it for myself. I'll buy you a cupcake afterwards to make up for it. But for now, the camera stays. Agreed?”

Castiel stared back at him before his shoulders slumped, his glare disappearing. “Fine. Agreed. But the second we have something to prove it isn't her....”

Crowley nodded, holding both hands in the air to Castiel, palms up. “...then it comes down. Scout's honor.”

Castiel watched him for a few seconds more before nodding and looking back to the Board. “What are they meeting about?”

Crowley shrugged. “Not much. They're collecting field reports from scouts.”

Castiel frowned. “Scouts? What is Heaven scouting for?”

“Seems to be a rather large list of paranormal occurrences on Earth right now. My problem is, I can't tell if they are _reporting_ the existence of them, or _confirming_ that they are occurring - the former meaning they were unaware of them, the latter meaning that they may be the ones responsible for them.”

Castiel looked a bit sick. He walked over to one of the conference's rooms chairs and sat down in it heavily, rubbing his forehead with one hand. “I'm still having trouble with this, Crowley.”

Crowley nodded. “Like I said. Blind spot.” Castiel let his arm drop, frustrated, and stared at Crowley, who was walking away from the Board and sitting back down himself. “Now, Castiel, have you found out anything about the role of the Archangels as a group?”

Castiel shook his head. “The only time the Archangels really worked together as a team was during the War of Creation.”

Crowley leaned back in his chair. “Not a lot of information out there about that. Care to fill me in?”

“No.”

“No?”, Crowley answered, leaning back forward, elbows resting on the table.”Castiel, you _are_ aware that we need to work together here, correct?”

Castiel shook his head. “I'm not about to talk about the secrets and the structure of the universe itself with the King of Hell.” He met his gaze evenly. “No direct offense intended.”

Crowley met his gaze and slowly smiled. “Was Lucifer there?”, he asked finally.

“What?”

“You heard me. Was Lucifer there? At the War of Creation?”

Castiel looked away. “Of course he was. Even you know that part.”

Crowely nodded. “And what did Lucifer ever accomplish with all of those secrets, Castiel? Because, last I checked, he was the King of Hell for a _far_ longer time than I am. At least up to this point. Did he destroy the universe? Unravel Creation? What's the danger, Castiel?”

Castiel looked down at the table. “We're...we're not allowed to talk about this.”

Crowley dropped an arm to the table in frustration, rolling his head. “Of course. Back to Angel rules again, are we?” He stood up. “Castiel....Castiel!”, he shouted, when Castiel didn't respond. “Whomever we're fighting right now is an Archangel and therefore has direct knowledge of how the Universe works, and, unlike Lucifer, is also actually using said knowledge to bring it crashing down around our bloody ears. Your following that damned code of yours is going to get us all killed! Now, please, for pity's sake, out with it already!” He breathed hard and crossed his arms, waiting.

Castiel shook his head again, refusing to look up.

“Castiel!!”, Crowley shouted. Castiel jumped a little.

After a minute or so, Castiel nodded, seemingly having reached a decision. “Ok, Crowley. OK, it's the only way. You need to understand if you and I will ever have a chance of working together and stopping this.”

“Finally,” Crowley said, exasperated, raising his hands in the air and letting them drop.

Castiel smiled grimly and swiveled his head towards Crowley. “You're not going to like it, though,” he said, his smile fading.

Crowley regarded him and cocked his head. “Well, that's...ominous,” he said, sitting down. “Interesting. Please, continue.”

Castiel turned his head away again. “Crowley, where do Demons go when they're destroyed?”

Crowley felt a chill go up his spine. “Um...what?”, he asked dryly.

Castiel looked back to him. “Demons, Crowley. Where do they go when they're destroyed? Don't try to pretend that you've never asked that question yourself.”

Crowley shivered, watching Castiel carefully for a few seconds, as if he had suddenly turned into a venomous snake. “Truthfully,” he answered after a while, “yes. But the answers are somewhat less than forthcoming on that particular subject.”

Castiel nodded. “Because you don't know. Demons are already dead, and they are also denied the Kingdom of Heaven, because their souls have been destroyed. But, Crowley, energy, like matter, cannot be either simply created or destroyed, correct?”

“Oh dear, this is starting to sound suspiciously like a science lesson,” Crowley grumbled in protest. He met Castiel's eyes and shook his head. “Sorry. Yes. It can't be created or destroyed. Please continue.”

“Actually, it can.”

“Sorry?”, Crowley responded, eyebrows raised.

“It can be destroyed,” Castiel answered, sighing. He rose and walked over in front of the Big Board, holding his forearms behind his back, his trenchcoat bunching up there. “It's the Darkness, Crowley. It's more than just what the Universe was before God came. Much, much more.”

Crowley nodded. “Go on.”

“Before the War of Creation....all of the Universe was the Darkness. A chaotic mass of energy and matter that destroyed anything it came across.” He turned and met Crowley's eyes. “But destroyed what, Crowley? That's the question no one ever asks about it. If there was no life before God, then what was the Darkness destroying and consuming?”

Crowley shrugged. “I give up. What?”

“Itself,” Castiel answered simply, pacing away. “It fed on itself. A perfect balance of matter, and what modern science now calls anti-matter. It collided with itself in infinite cycles. Annihilating and creating in a perfect circle of destruction.”

“Just a second,” Crowley interrupted. “I've actually read a thing or two about antimatter and matter collisions. When they hit, they just cancel each other out, don't they? They cease to exist alltogether. How is that the Darkness?”

Castiel nodded. “There is a burst of energy created at the moment of collision as well. A massive burst of energy. Then, they cease to exist. Nothingness. Empty. Darkness. Now, imagine an infinite supply of matter and antimatter, independent of time or form, constantly colliding with each other and refuelling itself through it's own annihilation. That's what the Darkness in it's purest form is. Pure destruction. That is what the Universe was before God put it in order. And that is what the War of Creation was.”

Crowley's brow furrowed. “I don't get it. Where did God come from, then?”

Castiel shook his head. “No one knows that. Maybe not even Father himself. Theories abound. Maybe He was always there. The point of creation. That massive energy burst that is created at the moment of collision. The Big Bang. Energy from annihilation. Life from Death.”

“Let there be light...” Crowley muttered.

“Exactly,” Castiel answered. “Although, actually, the light part was Lucifer's idea. That's how he got the nickname Lightbringer.” Crowley nodded. “Now comes the unpleasant part,” Castiel continued, pacing again. “You've asked me before why God never destroyed the Darkness, instead locking it away.” He looked back at Crowley, who held out his hand for Castiel to continue. “It's because He couldn't, Crowley. He defined it, and then locked it away. Pure chaos, to balance out pure creation. A battery, if you will. One balances the other. There can't be Order without Chaos. Life without Death. The Universe without the Darkness.”

“What does this have to do with what happens to Demon's that are destroyed?”, Crowley asked warily.

“Because that''s where they go, Crowley,” Castiel answered slowly. “Lucifer created Demons by reaching into that Chaos, and using that Darkness to create life of his own making. Like God, he used it to balance out his new life. But he isn't quite as...skilled as God was. So, he got life, but without souls. He got something that was still too heavily bound to it's birthplace, the Darkness. So that's where you go. Back to....nothingness.”

“Oh, isn't that a cheerful thought, “Crowley exhaled, putting his hands behind his head. “You know something, you're right. I don't, in fact, like it. Not one bit.” He dropped his hands and turned his head to the side. “Might never get a decent night's sleep again, as a matter of fact,” he muttered, mostly to himself. He shook himself out of his reverie. “Castiel, this whole thing doesn't sound like a 'War of....' well, anything. How was it a war? You just explained it was an act of creation, which, as I've heard told, is the exact opposite of war.”

Castiel frowned. “Did you just quote _Rent_?”

Crowley raised his eyebrows. “Not enough to get me into any trouble, I hope. But, not wanting to get _too_ distracted, back to my original question if you please; how was it a war?”

Castiel nodded. “When God came, He threw everything out of balance. Where once everything was in perfect balance, now one side – life and creation- had more power. It created a tug-of-war of sorts for control. On the one side was God and his Archangels.”

“And on the other?”

Castiel's expression turned dark. “Monstrosities. The ancient Serpent. The Old Ones. The forefathers of all that is evil. The Darkness sent them out, called them it's Heralds of Darkness, and the Archangels battled them for control.”

Crowley paled. “Do you remember what Jesse told the Winchesters back in Mississippi?”

Castiel nodded.

“They called themselves ' _The Heralds_ ', Castiel. That can't be a bloody coincidence.”

Castiel shook his head. “It isn't. There's more.”

“Lovely,” Crowley muttered, leaning back in his chair and looking at the ceiling.

“Back in New Orleans, when I entered Joshua Vandecourte's thoughts. I saw....I saw what they were after.” He turned back to Crowley, who was watching him with wide eyes. “Joshua was seated on a throne. The people, all life, was offering themselves up to him. Their life, their fear, their souls created forms in the water and in the air. Monsters. Life was feeding Darkness. Bringing the Heralds back to the world.”

Crowley rubbed his chin. “I see....sort of the world in a mirror, then? Right now, God and his version of the Universe has control. The Darkness is kept sealed away, giving energy as a balance to maintain order. They want to take that control for themselves, don't they?”

Castiel nodded. “As I said. Life feeding Darkness. A second Genesis.”

“Do you mean to tell me,” Crowley said slowly rising from his chair, “that this whole time, you knew what their end game was, and never bothered to tell me about it??!!”, he shouted accusingly at Castiel.

Castiel didn't react. He simply looked back at Crowley. “Crowley, you are one of the most dangerous and evil Demons that has ever existed. You have perpetuated acts of evil on myself and the ones I care about time and time again. So, please,” he said, his face twisting into a sarcastic dismissal, “don't get self-righteous with me when I feel that there is something that I can't trust you with at the moment.”

Crowley's mouth dropped open, and he gave Castiel an appraising look. He then smiled broadly. “Castiel....I ...I don't know what to say.....”

Castiel frowned at him “What...I don't understand. What are you so happy about?”

Crowley's smile widened. “Because, my reluctant partner. You actually used logical forethought. And not only that, came to the conclusion that I can't be trusted!” He beamed at Castiel.

“And that's a good thing....how?” Castiel stammered.

“Best news all day!”, Crowley said. “You know? For the first time in a long time, I actually think we might live through this mess!” He clapped Castiel on the shoulder and walked out of the conference room, leaving Castiel watching him go, completely dumbfounded.

 


	9. Impetus Rex

# Impetus Rex

Jesse's head was spinning as he started walking back with Leon to the main room. A _second_ Apocalypse? They had lied to him. They told him that they were going to set the world to rights, that they were going to _restore_ the balance of the universe that Castiel and Crowley and the Winchesters had torn apart. They were going to re-establish a hierarchy in Heaven - Hell as well, the Angel had explained. That was why they had to work with the Demon. Without proper leadership, Hell was running wild and unchecked on Earth, and Heaven was too much in disarray to do anything about it. Jesse had believed them. Mostly because... _why_ was it again that he had believed them? He frowned. They had told him that Sam and Dean had sent him on the wrong course. That he could have helped balance out everything before it got so out of control. They had made him feel _guilty_ about leaving as he had. It was something that had always bothered Jesse. _Did I make the right decision?_ Jesse looked over at Leon, who was watching him as if....

“I'm sorry,” Jesse shook himself out of his reverie. “What were you saying?”

Leon shrugged and looked away. “Damn, man, nah, s'allright. Obviously you got more important stuff on your mind, huh?” He looked back at Jesse, squinting. “You really didn't hear a damn word I just said, did you?”

Jesse sighed. “Again, I'm sorry Leon...it's just...those two. Those _three_ , really. What they were saying back there...”

Leon nodded. “That's what I was sayin', man. I don't like it.”

“What was it...what was it that they told you to get you involved with this Leon?” Jesse figured that Leon might not want to volunteer that information, so he gave a subtle _push_ to his subconscious.

Leon smiled. “It wasn't so big a deal. It's, the world, you know?”

Jesse frowned questioningly. “Huh? The world?”

Leon smiled. “Nah, they didn't promise me like the _actual_ world or nothin' like that. It's just...the way it works, you know? The people in it. It's like, the bigger and badder you are, the more you can keep everyone down - and keep taking them down.” Jesse nodded. Leon shrugged as they continued walking back.

“I got tired of it, man. Got tired of being kept down. Watchin' the strong get stronger. I asked, man, I prayed, I said ' I'll give anything, _anything_ to be able to stop it. To make the bastards pay. I just need to be strong.' Next thing I know, I'm in some cemetery with those two, and they laid it all out for me. They'd give me the power to make things right. To take the fight to the ones that were really screwing things up. It sounded so _simple_ , you know? It sounded so _right_.”

“Castiel and Crowley,” Jesse murmured. Leon looked at him and nodded.

“Yeah. They told me how they were trying to take over Heaven and Hell and what not. How the Winchesters and them just blasted through everyone to get what they wanted, no matter what the body count was. Somebody was causing all of this crap, someone had to be responsible. It made sense.”

Jesse stopped and looked down at Leon. He scanned his face. He couldn't have been much older than fifteen, but in his eyes there was a deep pain.

“Why you, Leon?” Jesse asked.

“What?”, Leon asked in return, cocking his head.

“Why you? What happened to make you want power that badly? “

Leon turned away, his shoulders slumped.

“I'm sorry, man, I shouldn't have pried,” Jesse said after a minute.

“Nah, you know, s'ok,” Leon replied, not looking back. “You wouldn't know.”

“C'mon, let's get back to the others, I have some serious thinking to do,” Jesse said, clapping Leon quickly on the back. Leon turned and smiled. They walked down the marble staircase and turned into a hallway leading back to the main parlor.

“It was my kid brother,” Leon said quietly as they neared the entrance.

Jesse stopped and turned towards Leon, watching him closely.

“He was...ah man,” Leon said haltingly, running a hand under his eye and taking a deep breath.

“It's no big deal, Leon, you don't have to....”

“I mean, I got picked on. Mugged. You name it. I was always helpless. But the straw that broke my back...that was my kid brother. Darius. He was just walking home from practice is all,” Leon continued, his eyes defiant. “His school was on the East side, not in the best neighborhood, if you get what I mean. New districts. My Mom and Dad...they fought the school board, but you know, rules are rules, right?” Jesse nodded. Leon looked out a stained glass window onto a side garden, putting both hands on the medium sized window seat there. “Yeah, anyways, he wasn't doing nothin, you know? But the way home goes through some rough hood. Cops sometimes patrol there. And one day, they see this kid WWB heading down the street, big overstuffed backpack...”

“WWB?”, Jesse asked.

“Walking While Black,” Leon smiled, tight lipped. Tears were already welling up again in his eyes. “They just flew up to him like he was mugging someone, man. Patrol car jumping the curb. Hands on guns when they came out. My brother...he had no idea what to do. He froze. They kept yelling at him to get on the ground. He tried, but the backpack...I guess it was too heavy. He tried to take it off....” Leon choked up and turned away, taking deep breaths.

“What happened Leon?”, Jesse asked reluctantly. He didn't want to press, but Leon seemed to want to get this out.

“They said in their report that they thought he was going for a weapon. A weapon. Did they see something? No. Did he even open the goddamned pack? No. Reach inside? No. He couldn't get down on the ground fast enough, man – that's all. They...Darius...” Leon took another deep breath and turned back to Jesse, eyes full of fury. “Twenty times, man. They shot him _twenty times_ . Probably made the headlines Down Under where you were, too. You know what was in the pack, man?” Jesse shook his head. “A French Horn. My brother, he was _terrible_ with that damned thing...” he cut off as his tears started back up again. “But no, he was determined, so determined to get it right. He just wanted to play in the band, man.”

Jesse nodded, understanding. “Leon, I'm sorry.”

Leon sniffed and straightened up, forcing a disarming smile onto his face. “Don't be, man. Be sorry for what I did about it.” His face contorted into a toothy, aggressive smile, full of pain. “I just made it worse is all. I wanted revenge. Payback. And...yeah. I let them in, Jess- I let them in, and I became something worse than those cops ever were.”

“Don't say that, Leon...”, Jesse, said, placing a hand on Leon's shoulder.

“No, it's true!,” Leon spat back, slapping the hand away. “How many, Turner? How many people are dead, or worse because of me?”

Jesse sighed, and stared right back in Leon's eyes. “Not because of you, Leon. Think. You were in pain, and those two took advantage of that. They're the ones to blame for this, Leon. Not you. They twisted you around. They almost did the same to me.” Jesse looked back into the main room before turning back to Leon. “Leon, how well do you know the others? Did...did any of them also have stuff like this happen to them?”

Leon nodded. “Yeah, man, all of 'em. Real collection in there.”

“No more, Leon..:” Jesse said, his voice nearly a whisper. “No more. I don't know what these bastards' game is, but it's over. Look, can you tell me who else in there would be most willing to help us?”

Leon nodded slowly.

“Good. Because we're going to need to do some fighting. And the more people that we have, the better.”

***

The Impala roared into a spot in front of the Bunker where the grass had been flattened and was beginning to retreat away from several oil stains. It's engine ticked rhythmically as it cooled down. Sam and Dean climbed out, Dean moving around to pop open the trunk. He hauled out a large duffel bag of supplies and sighed, looking at Sam, who watched him, his typical worried look on his face. Dean smiled tightly.

“Home sweet home,” he said, walking towards the Bunker entrance.

They walked in and stopped short in the entranceway.

“Sammy, did you leave the lights on?”, Dean asked cautiously. He looked at Sam, noted the alarm on his face, and dropped the pack, drawing his pistol in one smooth motion. Sam already had the Demon Knife out and a pistol in his other hand.

They moved silently down the steps, looking into the side rooms and library. They did a full circuit before working their way to the control center, checking the video feeds and various motion alarms. It was all clear. Dean looked at Sam, puzzled, and they both nodded and tucked their weapons away, moving into the main room.

Two figures stood on the walkway above them.

“So, I heard that you two are out of the game,” one of the figures called down to them in a mocking tone. “Can't have that now, can we?”

“What the hell....!” Dean cursed in surprise, his 9mm coming out in a blur. He trained it on them and squinted.

“How in the hell did you get in here?”, Sam called out. “This Bunker is warded!”

The two figures glanced at each other. Their faces were in shadow, but their eyes glowed. One with white eyes, the other with red. The one with the red eyes shrugged. He started moving slowly, menacingly down the stairs with his partner.

“Not from us. You see, the Men of Letters were a lot of things; protectors, but also arrogant. Cautious, but also cocky. And, most of all, well-defended, but not psychic.” The two reached the bottom of the stairs and stopped. The Demon smiled.

“They never saw _us_ coming.”

***

Castiel sighed and looked up as Crowley walked into the office's library. Crowley was pale. Castiel frowned.

“Crowley....?”

Crowley gave his head a small shake, his eyes focusing. “Ah, yes, Castiel,” he grunted, re-establishing his typical air of nonchalant superiority. “How is the research coming?”

Castiel frowned, getting up from the long table where he had been sitting, closing the large book in front of him. “Fine,” he replied curtly. “Crowley, is everything...?”

“No history of Suriel ever interfering in human affairs? Appearances? Manifestations? Direct action?”

Castiel moved closer, trying to look Crowley in the eyes, but Crowley kept looking away. “No...”, he answered. “Not a single one. After the fall in the Garden of Eden, and the first human death – Abel – Suriel became a recluse. She gave up the mantle of death and retreated to her own corner of Heaven. She hasn't been seen until now. Why?”

Crowley blinked, finally turning his eyes towards Castiel. He frowned and took a step back. “Castiel. Personal space. I thought you've been told about that.”

Castiel's eyes narrowed. “Crowley, what's going on? You look like....”

Crowley shook his head slightly, his eyes showing no emotion. “It's nothing. Some bad news. It can wait. Nothing to concern you at the moment.” He shoved his hands in his suit pockets and strode away. “What _is_ of immediate concern, however, is Suriel. And, to be more specific, her motivations.”

Castiel frowned. “Why is it an immediate concern?”

“Did she ever say why it was that she gave up the mantle of death after Abel's murder?”

Castiel lowered his head and shook it. “Not this again...”

Crowley nodded. “I see. So the rumors are not completely unfounded.”

“They're just rumors, Crowley. No one ever substantiated anything....”

“Because _several_ Scriptures state...”

“It wasn't Suriel, Crowley,” Castiel said, voice rising. “It was another. One of the Fallen.”

Crowley shrugged. “Don't kill the messenger. I'm just trying to make sense of that particular section of Biblical nonsense. It's like it's on purpose, you know what I mean? There are over five different variations on the spelling of her name, and a million different functions and titles, depending on which Holy Book you happen to be subscribing to at the time.” He scratched at his beard. “Someone seems to be hiding something there Castiel. That's all that I'm saying.”

Castiel let out an exaggerated sigh. “Go ahead, Crowley, say it.”

Crowley stepped closer, head to the side. “It's just that, one of the more prominent versions mentions that the Archangel _Sariel_ , spelled slightly differently, at least in the Book of Enoch, can be associated with providing wisdom to man. Sort of like a Judeo-Christian version of Prometheus.”

Castiel looked up patiently, his face calm.

“It also mentions something about her, or him, again, according to which book you're reading, being associated to Metatron....or that she could _actually be_ Metatron.”

Castiel snorted.

“Thank you for joining the conversation. I will presume that means that you disagree,” Crowley replied.

“Crowley, you've actually _met_ Metatron. In person. You've _seen_ the energy patterns. Do you think that he's Suriel?”

Crowley smiled. “Just trying to sort the wheat from the chaff, Castiel, that's all. I do find it curious, however, that Suriel would be considered in that regard. Don't you?”

“I already know where you're going with this Crowley, and...”

“Because the rumors of her sharing knowledge with mankind were because of a particularly interesting reason, I find.” Crowley continued, cutting Castiel off. “The best reason of all...” he said, moving to stand closer to Castiel, who glared at him. “Love.”

Castiel shook his head and paced away angrily. “Those are the exact same rumors that drove Suriel away in the first place.”

“Touched a nerve, Castiel?”

Castiel stared back. “What do you think, Crowley? One of the most powerful and respected Angels in Heaven, driven away by petty gossip. We were all of us weakened by that.”

Crowley nodded sympathetically. “And what if some of it were actually true, to a degree?”

Castiel's eyes flashed with fury. Then his shoulders slowly slumped. “I...what is your point, Crowley?”

“I'm just trying to figure out how much trouble I'm in,” Crowley replied.

“What are you talking about?”

Crowley strode forward, looking at the floor. “It means, sunshine, that Suriel has just summoned me to a meeting. In Heaven. And she did _not_ sound , shall we say, _cheery_ about it. Now, considering the light of recent events, I would like to know if there is any extra motivation for her to dislike me, say, for instance, like we just killed her ex-boyfriend?”

Castiel stared at Crowley for a minute before he nodded slowly, reluctantly. “I understand. Crowley. All I can promise you is this; Suriel took on the most undesirable job that Heaven had. She bore that burden until she could bear it no longer. If she is actually mourning Abel's death, that will not distract her from her present duty. There is a direct edict from God that we must be allowed to complete our mission. Being an Archangel, Suriel has no choice but to follow that order, no matter how much pain she's in.”

Crowley watched him carefully for a minute before sighing loudly. “It'll have to do then. Shame I can't bring you along for support....but rules are rules, it seems.” He shrugged his shoulders and straightened his suit jacket. “Well then, Castiel, it appears that I've been summoned to the principal's office. Let's see how much detention I end up getting.”


	10. The Sound of Darkness

# The Sound of Darkness

Jesse was watching the others in the room carefully by the time Joshua, the Angel and the Demon returned. They all stopped what they were doing and turned towards the three, waiting.

Joshua stood there calmly and scanned the room.

“It seems that I will be embarking on a little journey, Heralds,” he announced. “I will not be away long. Well, not in any sense that you can perceive, that is.” He grinned at a private joke. “In the short interim, my friends here will be in charge. If there comes the need for any _immediate_ action, I would ask you to treat their requests as if they were my own. Oh, and I would switch the TV on if I were you. I have a feeling the news is about to become very, very interesting.” He grinned again and walked away into the hall, leaving the Angel and the Demon standing there. The Demon had a too-wide smile on his face. Jesse shuddered.

“Soooooo,” the Demon exclaimed, slapping his hands together and striding into the room. “Who's up for a round of _Cards Against Humanity_?”

***

Crowley entered the Library of Heaven, the picture of composure, but internally, he was bemused. Who would have thought that he, of all creatures, would be walking these hallowed halls? Again. What did they want from him? Or, on a sourer note, what did they want to do _to_ him?

The Council of Heaven was waiting patiently there for him. Obadiah's eyes burned with open hatred. Issiah was managing a much better job of looking civil, but only barely. Astriel was smiling benignly, and Suriel...Crowley gave her only a cursory glance. He saw what he expected there. Completely unreadable. She stood stock still, hands braced on the table, her head bowed.

“So, I assume this has something to do with the _incident_ relating to Gabriel and Abel, then?”, Crowley said casually, maneuvering into a chair, trying to look calm and cool. In truth, his stomach was in knots. He was certain that the rumors about Suriel and Abel were absolutely true. There were too many coincidences involved for it to be pure gossip. Suriel was rumored to have given some type of 'knowledge' to man....well, that was simply Heaven's shorthand term for 'sex'. They were terrible at being direct about things like that. And Abel – after his death, promoted to the status of angel in record time. He had connections in, quite literally, high places. The fact that Suriel resigned after he was murdered simply was the icing on the cake for Crowley. In his Court, it was an open and shut case.

Which meant he was probably in a _lot_ of trouble. He had to keep calm.

He waited, suppressing a swallow. Suriel's gaze never met his, she simply stared pointedly at the table in front of her. Crowley began to fidget. Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, she looked up. Her clear blue eyes were rimmed in red.

_Bugger...._

“Crowley, I am not here for your head, if that's what you're so afraid of,” Suriel said, voice dry and cracked. She turned away, the silence returning.

“Well, I'd like to take the opportunity to thank you for that...”, Crowley responded carefully. “So, may I ask then what...”

“The Register of Heaven,” Suriel said, her voice just over a whisper. “Did you recover it?” She glanced over her shoulder in Crowley's direction, but didn't meet his eyes.

Crowley leaned back, his eyes narrowing. “No,” he answered slowly. “I sent teams into Gabriel's establishment afterwards, but they came up with nothing.”

Suriel nodded slowly. She turned towards him again. “And if you are _lying_ to me on this point Demon...well, I may not be able to hinder you in your mission now, but after it is complete....”, her expression darkened to one of unmistakable rage. Crowley actually felt himself shrink back before he composed himself. Suriel let out a breath, her face relaxing.

“I wonder how much you are actually keeping from us. And from Castiel,” she murmured before frowning. She looked back at him. “You _do_ realize, that if Castiel fails, you fail as well? That means no Kingdom. No Hell. You will be forever banished from your chosen home. How long do you think you would last out there, Crowley? A deposed king, no power, no friends, and only a small token remaining force of Demons that are loyal to you?”

Crowley shifted in his seat. “Look, Angel, I've been as honest as I can with you here....”

“A typically non-specific answer,” Suriel sighed, her eyes narrowing. She sighed loudly. “I suppose it doesn't matter.” She turned around and put her hands back palms down on the table. “With that book, as you well know, we could have seen if Gabriel was truly dead. We could have also determined the identity of the Archangel working against us. Without it, we're blind on both fronts.”

Crowley nodded. “Forgive me for being blunt....or don't , it doesn't really matter, and I'm going to do it anyway....but _if_ I had found that book, it would let me know those things as well. Up to and including if you, my dear, are in fact the one behind all of this. Would you fault me from keeping it out of your hands if I can't eliminate you as a suspect?”

Suriel's calm eyes regarded him without flinching. “You have a point,” she said coolly. “Surprisingly.” She cocked her head slightly. “Or maybe not so surprisingly. I'm beginning to see how you reached the levels that you have.” She nodded to herself.

Crowley's brow furrowed as he began to stand up. “Well, thanks for the invite, it's been swell. If that's all, I'll like to be on my....”

The room shook violently.

The gigantic pillars reaching up to dizzying heights literally cracked, large chunks of marble crashing to the floor. Seraphim and Cherubs scattered as books fell from the shelves by the thousands and the walls rumbled and shook. Suriel looked around wildly, the other Angels of the Council stood as one, stunned. Crowley fell back into his chair.

“What in all of Damnation....?!”, he shouted at Suriel, who looked back at him, shock and confusion in her eyes. She quickly composed herself and ran over to a carved device set into the wall, shaped a bit like a conch shell. She slammed her hand against it.

“All scouts, report!”, Suriel shouted into the device.

A crackling sound reminiscent of static came out of the device, that plus the sound of shouts and general panic in the background.

“Something just happened on earth!” a voice shouted back. “A portal opened up! Big...no...huge!”

Suriel frowned. “Where?”

There was the sound of scrambling and more yelling. The walls shook some more, the pillars began to shed even more marble. Crowley got up to head for the exit, holding on as long as he could to listen to the angel's report.

“....middle of the Atlantic,” the voice shouted back. “Off the coast of Florida....”

“I don't understand,” Suriel shouted back. “How is that effecting us here in Heaven? It's like we're being ripped apart!”

“We're monitoring it now, “ the voice yelled back. “By all that's holy....any Angel getting anywhere near it...”

“What?”

There was a pause. “They're disappearing...just flying into it and then they're _gone_....” More shouts. Crowley was close to the door, looking around. The place looked like it could fall apart at any second, and he wasn't about to be standing in it when it did.

“First data coming back....” the voice yelled from the other end.... “It seems like...oh...oh no...that can't be right....”

“Report!!”

“...Suriel....”the voice said hesitantly. “It's not just effecting Heaven, this portal is ripping through _every_ dimension....”

Suriel's brow furrowed. “What are you talking about? Every dimension? The whole of Creation itself? But that's impossible!” She frowned and then turned ghost white, her mouth forming a straight line, lips parting. Crowley watched her. The debris falling around her appeared to actually be moving in slow motion as the fear radiated around her. He watched as she pressed a visibly shaking hand back to the communication device.

“Coordinates,” she said, her voice low and neutral.

“Suriel?”

“What are the coordinates of the event?”, she repeated evenly. Her eyes were closed, shoulders slumped. _It's as if she already knows the answer_ , Crowley found himself thinking. _Curious._

There was a long pause from the other side. The room continued to shake. The ceiling, which was so high as to be almost completely out of sight, had begun to crack as well as plaster and stone slammed into the floor, exploding into dust and pebbles.

“Suriel...I...the coordinates...”

“Please, just _say it_ ,” Suriel said.

“Yes...it's Earth Zero-point-Zero. It's Point Zero itself. I don't...I thought...” the other Angel was stammering, his voice also gone dry.

Suriel let out a breath. Then she nodded slowly, sadly. Crowley stood in the doorway still watching her. An archangel defeated. A sight that was rare indeed.

Her head sprang up and she whipped her head at Crowley. She straightened up and strode directly towards him purposefully, her fists and jaw clenched. Her eyes blazed with determination.

Crowely took a step back. _Uh oh,_ he thought... _wanting to get in one last shot I gather_ ..... He turned to run, smacking right into the chest of three Angels that were standing behind him. He spun back to Suriel, who was coming fast, debris from Heaven's library falling all around her. Her eyes blazed a furious white, and her red hair flew in the maelstrom like a flag. _She looks like....well, Death itsel_ f, Crowley thought. _Appropriate I suppose_.

She stopped in front of him, glaring, and swung her arm towards his head.

***

Jesse watched the Angel and the Demon uneasily out of the corner of his eye. He had moved over to a corner of the room, away from the others. Most of them were laughing and joking with the Demon, playing their card game. Jesse frowned. What was it Joshua had said about the TV? He walked over to the end table and picked up the remote. He switched on the big screen and immediately saw.... _what the hell am I looking at?_ , he wondered. He turned up the volume.

“.....live over the Atlantic Ocean, viewers,” a news reporter's voice was saying. “For those of you just joining us, initial Coast Guard reports of a man literally _walking on water_ appear to be confirmed. Our own Eye-in-the-Sky news chopper is the first to bring you these exclusive, amazing and shocking images....” The picture zoomed in on a figure striding...no gliding, rapidly across the surface of the ocean. A dais of pure black water surrounded him, extending at least fifty meters around him in a circle. He stood perfectly still in the center, as the circle appeared to not be effected by the waves or wind. The camera zoomed in as Jesse moved closer to the TV. It was Joshua, his head tilted back into the sky, eyes closed and smiling as he and the disc raced along the ocean's surface. The disc finally slowed down and stopped. Jesse turned his head slowly behind him, seeing the Angel there standing next to him, watching intensely. He looked down at Jesse and smiled, holding up a finger to his lips.

“Listen closely, Jesse,” he whispered. “This is going to be good.”

Jesse whipped his head back to the TV in horror.

***

Joshua slowed in his approach and stopped. He had arrived at the exact spot. Here was where it needed to occur. Here the portal would open. He tilted his head back and opened his mouth.

And sang the song of his Masters.

***

The TV wailed in protest as the sound streamed out of the speakers. Jesse felt himself actually falling backwards from the cacophony. It was as if it actually were a song, but somehow it's opposite. The harmony and pattern and rhythm that existed in a true song had been _twisted_ , mirrored....the song was pure Chaos itself. His eyes widened in horror as the dark circle underneath Joshua suddenly expanded and dropped straight into the waves, leaving a void behind it, a dark tunnel into the bowels of the earth. It then started moving upwards, a conduit of pure night shooting into the heavens. The camera shook violently, there was a scream and then the signal cut off. Jesse stood up, his skin gone cold. The Angel was smiling widely, looking over his shoulder at his brother, who had looked up from his game and returned the smile.

***

Joshua looked around him and the darkness he had brought, and smiled. The conduit was complete. He saw, to his amusement, Angels from Heaven flying around it, trying to find out what it was. He watched as they fell into that darkness, disappearing forever.

His Masters were coming.

Finally.

***

Castiel spun as Crowley materialized in his room. A tall Angel with red hair was standing next to him, gripping his shoulder.

“Suriel?”, he said, squinting.

Suriel nodded. “No time, Castiel. It's...they've...Castiel, somehow they've opened the portal at Earth-Zero-point-Zero.”

Castiel's jaw dropped. “No....how did they....? Suriel, that was _sealed_....by the Archangels themselves....”

“Anyone want to explain to me what the blazes is going on?” Crowely groused, pulling his shoulder away from Suriel and wiping a hand over his jacket, straightening it. “What exactly is Earth Zero-point-Zero?”

“No time,” Castiel said, grabbing him. “I'll explain when we get there. Suriel? I can't....”

Suriel nodded. “Yes, Castiel, conserve your energy. I will use mine to send you back.” She reached out her arms towards their heads.

Crowley turned to Castiel as her fingers touched their foreheads.

“Back _where_ , Castiel?! Where in the _bloody Hell_ are we going?!”

“Atlantis,” Castiel answered dryly as they faded away.

 

*To be continued in “Castiel and Crowley: The Next Missions, Episode 5: The First Flood” - C U there! ;) *

 


End file.
